


A Flight of Green and Blue

by alassenya



Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey, Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Dragons, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Misunderstandings, Monaboyd, Pining, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-23
Updated: 2011-07-23
Packaged: 2017-10-21 16:30:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 81,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/227263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alassenya/pseuds/alassenya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The setting is Fort Weyr during the 6th Pass, about ten years prior to the events in "Moreta: Dragonlady of Pern".  Billee is a Harperhall apprentice who is found on Search and Impresses a blue dragon (Margroth).  He meets and makes friends with Domin, a Weyr-bred boy who Impresses a green (Aurieth).  The story follows their two years of training and first few months as fully-fledged dragonriders, during which time Billee has to come to terms with aspects of Weyr life he never imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Search

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Golden Queen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/60724) by [S_EER (Fritiriel)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fritiriel/pseuds/S_EER). 



> 1\. This story was inspired by reading S_eer's wonderful story _The Golden Queen_ , which I recommend most heartily. Her story is Sean/Lijah, and naturally I started thinking about how a Monaboyd dragonrider pairing would work. This is the result, and it was first posted in my LiveJournal account between July and December 2007.  
> 2\. I have tried very hard to keep as close to canon as possible with this story, and I've used several characters from Anne McCaffrey's novel "Moreta: Dragonlady of Pern" in minor roles. I have also made use of information from several other novels in the series, plus various Pern references. Where no specific information was provided, I have extrapolated as best I can. .  
> 4\. If you are new to Pern, there is a quick introduction and a list of characters [here at my LJ](http://alassenya.livejournal.com/50257.html).  
> 5\. I am very grateful to [Sassywitch](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sassywitch/pseuds/sassywitch), [GlasgowHobbit](http://glasgowhobbit.livejournal.com/) and [HisNiblets](http://hisniblets.livejournal.com/) for their help and overwhelming support while I was writing this.  
> 6\. _A Flight of Green and Blue_ was voted the winner in the "Billy Boyd/Dominic Monaghan RPS Long Fiction" section of the 2008 [Men of Middle Earth Awards](http://community.livejournal.com/mome_awards/10859.html).

_By the Golden Egg of Faranth_  
By the Weyrwoman, wise and true,  
Breed a flight of bronze and brown wings,  
Breed a flight of green and blue.  
Breed riders, strong and daring,  
Dragon-loving, born as hatched  
Flight of hundreds soaring skyward,  
Man and dragon fully matched.  
\--- Anne McCaffrey, Dragonflight

**Chapter 1 - Search**

_Sixth Month, 34th Turn of the Present Pass_

Dragons were not an unusual sight at the Harperhall - they brought visitors to the Masterharper and the Masterhealer on a regular basis - so Billee gave no thought to the brown and blue that landed in the forecourt beyond wondering what news they brought for Masterharper Tirone.

He kept one eye on them as he edged around the courtyard to the dining hall. He knew from his lessons that a blue was considered a small dragon, but it certainly seemed enormous to him as he walked past. It was four times his height, even when crouching, and many times as long. The brown was bigger again, but at least it had simply landed and then left, probably to settle on the gather grounds. The blue, on the other hand, had stayed, and was observing all the comings and goings with a keen interest. It lifted its head to regard the young apprentice harper solemnly out out of one huge, multi-faceted eye. Billee was glad that he had enough presence of mind to remember his manners, and bowed as he walked past. He didn't really believe any of the tales he'd been told about dragons eating naughty children (or even naughty apprentices), but it didn't pay to take any chances where the large carnivores were concerned.

One of the dragonriders was standing just inside the entrance to the dining hall, chatting in a desultory fashion to Master Flint - the coloured cords knotted around his shoulder showed that he was the rider of the blue, and came from Fort Weyr. The rider turned to look at him as he walked past, and Flint followed his gaze, murmuring something to the rider. Billee ducked his head and scurried over to his table. He couldn't remember having done anything wrong recently, but it was never a good idea for an apprentice to attract Master Flint's attention, as he was all too fond of handing out scribing tasks as punishment for real or imagined infractions.

At the noonday meal he learned more from the other apprentices. The dragons were on Search, visiting all the principal Holds in Fort Weyr's domain to look for young men who had the potential to become dragonriders. Orlith, the new junior queen who had transferred in from Ista Weyr a couple of winters ago, had laid an unusually large clutch of 31 eggs, and both her rider, Moreta, and the Weyrwoman, Leri, were determined that the dragonets would have a good range of candidates to choose from.

"I hope I get chosen," said Fergonal, as he dropped down into his seat. "I'd love to be up there fighting Thread on dragonback."

"I don't," said Simmon stolidly. "I like spending Threadfall underneath thick rock and metal, not out there where I'm as likely to get flamed as scored."

"Coward."

"Just sensible."

"Well, I want to be a dragonrider. Don't you, Billee?" Fergonal's tone was wistful.

Bille smiled. "I did, when I was younger - who doesn't?" He applied himself to the meat on his plate. "But now I'm going to be a harper."

"You can still be Searched."

Billee shrugged. "I was lucky enough to get permission to attend the Harperhall. I don't look for any more than that."

"They couldn't refuse to let you stand, could they? Your people, I mean."

"I don't know. I'm supposed to go back to High Reaches when I've walked the tables to help with the teaching." He grinned, slyly. "You southern-bred harpers are too delicate to cope with the Holds up there. They need natives."

There was a general outcry at that, which Billee expected, but if he had been hoping to divert the topic of conversation, he was disappointed. The presence of two dragons at the harperhall was too attractive a subject to be deferred for long, and conversation sooon returned to the clutch hardening at Fort Weyr, and to the possibility that any one of them might be selected as a Candidate. Billee listened, but tried to put it out of his mind. He was a bit old to be a Candidate anyway - he was 19 Turns already, and with any luck he'd be promoted to journeyman sometime in the next year, and then he'd be back home at High Reaches Hold, helping Harper Ollis to teach the young ones and playing for the Hold in the evenings.

He would be glad to return, for he missed his family. He'd only seen his mother three times in the five years he'd been at the Harperhall, and there were nephews and nieces he had yet to see at all. He sent letters, when he could scrounge a bit of scrap parchment and when he knew there was someone heading in that direction, but there wasn't much contact between High Reaches Hold and Fort Hold, so news was rare.

It was a little surprising, therefore, when he was called out of his afternoon gitar class with Master Tondil to attend the Masterharper's office. He swallowed and wiped his hands on his trousers. He didn't remember having done anything particularly bad lately, so it was unlikely to be a punishment. Then he wondered if something had happened to his family - he tried desperately to work out when Thread would have fallen last at High Reaches - but surely the Masterharper wouldn't call him for that? It would be Journeyman Sistel who would give him that sort of news.

Nervously he stood outside the Masterharper's room and coughed gently. Journeyman Sistel came to the door and greeted him a little guardedly.

"Come in, Billee," he said, gesturing into the room.

Masterharper Tirone was seated at a scribing desk, the sand tables pushed back against the wall to make room for a pile of scrolls. The blue rider was there too, sitting to one side, nursing a goblet of something. Even he looked a little uncomfortable to be sitting in the presence of the Masterharper.

"You sent for me, masterharper?"

"Yes, Billee. Come in, sit down." He smiled. "You haven't done anything wrong, I assure you."

Billee sat gingerly on the low stool and tried to calm his nerves. He looked down at his hands and forced himself to be still.

"Well, then," began Tirone, "have you ever thought about being a dragonrider?"

Billee's head shot up. "What? Me?"

"Yes, you. Surely you've thought about it?"

"Well, yes, as a boy I did. But surely I'm too old now?" He glanced apprehensively at the rider. "I'll be twenty later this year, and I've nearly finished my apprenticehip - or so said Master Tondil, anyway," he added, hoping that he hadn't sounded immodest. "He thought I'd be ready to go back to High Reaches soon."

"Ah, yes, High Reaches." Tirone nodded slowly and steepled his fingers in front of his chest. "I think we can leave High Reaches in Ollis's capable hands for the moment - he's doing quite well there, quite well indeed. And it isn't always wise to send a harper straight back to his own hold. A little more experience is often necessary to prevent ... well, to _reinforce_ the notion that he answers to the Harperhall first and the lord holder second. Even the most reasonable holders can sometimes be mistaken on that point."

Billee bit his lip, not sure if he was supposed to comment or not. Probably not, since apprentices weren't supposed to know anything about the friction between crafts and holds, even if it was common knowledge. What concerned him more was the sinking feeling that returning to High Reaches in the near future was not going to happen, regardless of the outcome of this interview.

After a moment, Tirone continued. "But to come back to the subject of dragons ... would you be willing to stand as a candidate?"

"Am I suitable?"

"Salteth thinks you are," said the rider from his corner, "and he's never wrong."

"Thank you, F'ron," Tirone smiled. "You see, Billee, Salteth is one of the most experienced Search dragons at Fort Weyr. If he says you're suitable, then I, for one, am not going to argue. Even if it means losing a very valuable and promising apprentice."

Billee swallowed and tried to stop himself blushing. Master Tirone thought he was valuable? He'd had no idea that Tirone even knew who he was!

"But," continued the Masterharper, "I would never send anyone to the Weyr against his choice. If you are set against it, then I shall not make you go."

Billee thought about that for a moment. "Would I be able to come back here if I don't impress?"

"Of course."

Billee thought about it. Dragonriders were highly respected - they went anywhere, spoke to Lords Holder and MasterCraftsmen as equals, and always seemed to be glamorous, even when disshevelled and exhausted from fighting Thread. And who could not want to ride a dragon? Who would not want to fly, to see their dragon shoot flame far ahead, to keep the planet safe from the fearsome scourge of Thread? Certainly, there was the risk of being scored by Thread or burnt by flame, but what was that against the prospect of flying?

He thought for a minute longer, then nodded. "I'll do it. I'll take my chance at it."

"Good lad!"

"Do I have to get permission from Lord Kavin?"

"You're not of the blood, are you?"

"Not really. My father's a cousin, but he's studied shipbuilding all his life, not Holding. And I have four elder brothers still at High Reaches."

"In that case, I shall send your father and Lord Kavin a courtesy message to say that you have gone to Fort Weyr on Search, on the understanding that you will return to the Harperhall to continue your training should you not impress. That ought to placate them."

"Thank you."

Tirone pushed a goblet of wine into his hand, and Billee stared at it. Apprentices didn't drink wine, except at festival, when it was well-watered. But there it was, and Tirone and F'ron were raising their glasses, so he smiled and took a sip. It was stronger and much less sweet than he'd expected, but he drank it anyway, feeling the heat of it down his gullet.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. The eggs weren't due to hatch for another Sevenday or so, but F'ron was anxious to get Billee and Farillon, another Candidate from Fort Hold, up to the Weyr so that they could start to learn their way around and meet the weyrlingmaster and the rest of the Candidates. Billee expected to be sent up to the Weyr on a runnerbeast, but it appeared that Candidates were expected to arrive in style: a dragon would call for them at noon the next day.

He made a circuit of the Hall that afternoon, first collecting the gitar he'd made the previous Turn (which had been passed as "satisfactory" by Master Tondil, a rare honour), and saying goodbye to his teachers and classmates. He was careful to say that he was only a Candidate, and that he would be back there within the month if he didn't impress, but even those he didn't get on with were positive that he would succeed. He packed his things into a large carry-sack that he grabbed fom the Assistant Headwoman, and went down to his last dinner in a somewhat apprehensive mood.

As he had suspected, the results of Salteth's Search were announced at the meal, and Billee found himself the centre of attention. He tried to sink down in his seat, but Fergonal told him to sit up and acknowledge the honour done to the Harperhall by his selection.

"You'll do us proud, Billee, I know you will," he said.

"I'll try my best. But it's the dragon who chooses."

"Ah, and who wouldn't choose you?" teased Fergonal. "Those pretty green eyes, that handsome face, that lovely voice - any dragon with an eye for beauty would pick you any day."

"Oh, Fergonal, that's nonsense."

"And not just the dragons - I think Billee will be popular among the riders, too."

"Oh, of course, you'll be meeting queenriders," gasped Timmony, a youngster who'd only been in the Harperhall since winter solstice.

Fergonal snorted. "That wasn't quite what I meant."

"But -"

"Shut it, Fergonal," said Journeyman Sistel in a stern voice. "There are youngsters present." He smiled at Timmony and said, kindly, "Billee will be meeting all sorts of people at the Weyr. And if we're very good he might even deign to visit his old companions one day."

"I'll visit when I can," confirmed Billee, "but the training is hard and long - if I get to impress at all."

"You will."

Billee shrugged and made the effort to eat well on his last night among the friends he'd made over the last five years.

After the meal he accompanied the other apprentices back to the dormitory, and did what he could to help Fergonal with the gitar piece he would have to take over from Billee.

"I've changed my mind," said Fergonal, wearily, after an hour's practice. "I don't want you to go to the Weyr at all. I want you to stay here and play gitar so I don't have to do this."

"I told you you should have learned it a month ago."

"I know, but you're so much better at it, and you're never ill, so there wasn't any point. Tondil was never going to want me for the part as long as you were here."

"And now I'm not here - or I won't be, from tomorrow - and you have an awful lot to learn in a hurry." He twitched his lips in amusement. "Still, I'm sure that Master Tondil will be generous with his free time in tutoring you until you've learned the part."

Fergonal groaned. Tondil in class was bad enough; Tondil in a one-to-one tutorial would be impossible.

* * *

The next day Billee woke at dawn and listened to the sound of the Hall stirring. His last day in the Hall ... maybe his last day as a harper. For some reason, this seemed to be a more momentous change than the day he'd come south to become an apprentice. Hold to Hall, after all, was just a change of location. From Hold to Weyr, though - that was something else entirely. Weyrfolk were different.

He had already packed his things, so had little to do between breakfast and noon except to wander around the Harperhall, saying a silent farewell to the home he'd had for the last five Turns. He'd enjoyed his time here, and while he had been looking forward to going home, he had always assumed that he would return for more advanced training in the fullness of time. He'd had ambitions of taking his mastery in gitar and becoming Master Tondil's assistant, perhaps his successor. As a dragonrider, however, if he returned at all it would be as a visitor - an outsider, not an initiate.

He looked across the dining hall, where he'd had so many meals and heard so many brilliant musicians play, and was torn between the two futures that lay before him. On the one hand there was the prospect of becoming a dragonrider - and whatever he'd said to the other boys the day before, he'd never really lost the desire to ride a dragon - and on the other there was the knowledge that Impression would cut him off from his music and his old life more completely than anything else in the entire world. Would the life-long telepathic link with a dragon be enough to make up for the loss of his music?

He sat with his head in his hands for several minutes, until the drudges came in to set up for the noonday meal, then ran down to the kitchen to say a fond goodbye to Scallin, the head cook. Scallin, a large, jovial man, insisted that he take a large meatroll with him, since (as he said) everyone knew that Weyrs had no idea how to feed their folk. Billee laughed, but he took the roll anyway, and ate it as he made his way to the hall gate, where Journeyman Sistel stood ready to escort him to the gather meadow.

The dragon waiting for them was a young green. Her rider - who introduced himself as T'ristin - was younger than Billee, and told them that he'd Impressed Candith only the previous Turn. He was still a weyrling, not yet integrated into the fighting wings, and he and his classmates were on transport duty in the period leading up to the Hatching.

Farillon and another man - a farmer, by the look of him - walked over from the main Hold complex, both of them carrying large bags. Farillon obviously expected to be staying at Fort Weyr for a long time. Billee looked down at his own meagre belongings and wondered if he should have begged extra clothing from Kirra before leaving. Then he caught sight of T'ristin's expression as he saw all the bags, and was glad he'd limited his baggage to one carry-sack and his gitar.

Sistel helped him to load his gear into the carrying nets arranged on Candith's sides. They made their farewells, and then T'ristin showed them how to climb up the riding straps to the neck ridge, where they would be sitting directly behind the dragonrider.

"It's such a beautiful day I'm almost tempted to fly straight," said the youngster, "but there's a lot to do, so we'll go between as planned. Have either of you gone _between _before? No? Well, it'll be very dark and cold and sort of ... _blank_ ... It can be quite scary, but it's such a short trip that we'll be back in the sky before you know it. All ready? Right, then, let's go."__

Candith launched herself and took them high into the air in just a few rapid wingbeats. She banked, turning back over Fort Hold and Billee looked down, his jaw dropping as he saw the entire Hold,with the Harperhall off to one side, spread out beneath him.

"Isn't that a sight?" laughed T'ristin.

"It's fantastic!" Billee shouted, hoping he could be heard over the sound of the dragon's wings. He'd had no idea that Fort Hold was so large - it sprawled out from the cliff and over the surrounding foothills. He could make out the Harperhall and the windows of the Healerhall, and the Gather Ground they'd just left, and the Hold itself, extending up inside the cliff. Even the drum heights were clearly visible.

They climbed a little further and then, without warning, there was nothing except cold. Billee almost cried out in shock, but he couldn't draw breath. He couldn't feel the dragon underneath him, or Farillon behond him or even the air around him. As T'ristin had warned him, _between_ was simply nothing, and that was more terrifying than anything - any real thing - that he'd ever experienced in his short life.

In the next moment, just as he felt panic overwhelming him, they were in the air over Fort Weyr, and he could breathe again.

The Weyr was enormous - at least four times the size of Fort Hold. It was a giant oval bowl, aligned north-east to south-west, enclosed within steep ridges that were dotted with openings - dragonweyrs, Billee realised, and his heart leapt to think that he might inhabit one of them soon. The base of the bowl was fairly flat, with a small lake at the southern end. There were a few people down there, some of whom looked up to watch the green dragon descend.

Candith landed in the bowl of the Weyr and Billee fumbled at the straps that tethered him to T'ristin. Once freed, he made his way slowly and carefully down the riding straps - going down was definitely more difficult than climbing up had been. Farillon followed even more slowly.

T'ristin scrambled over the rigging, releasing the carrying nets that contained not only the passengers' bags, but also scrolls for the harper and assorted messages, and then jumped down himself.

It was obvious that they were expected, as a couple of youngsters came forward and greeted the dragon, then turned to the newcomers.

"You're the Fort Hold candidates?" asked one of them, a thickset redhead.

"Yes, we are," replied Billee.

"Fantastic. I'm Sett, this is Goneril." He indicated his companion, a short wiry boy with black curls. "We'll take you to the barracks and get you settled in." He reached for their bags, but Billee quickly grabbed his gitar. He'd laboured long and hard on it, and he wasn't about to have it damaged by a clumsy weyrbrat.

Sett chattered all the way to the barracks, which were along the north-western portion of the bowl. Billee couldn't suppress a gasp of amazement as he looked around the large cavern. It was vaguely rectangular in shape, and extended far back into the rock. Billee couldn't even begin to guess how long it was - twenty full dragonlengths? more? - but there were also openings that must lead to subsidiary caves.

"All the Candidates will be accommodated here in the western barracks,' explained Sett. "Luckily the weyrlings from last year's Hatching just moved up into their own weyrs, so there's plenty of room, since it's a big clutch. Choose a bunk, dump your gear, and get yourselves settled."

There were bunks projecting from the walls, widely spaced, clustered into bays of about five or six by the natural outcroppings in the rock. Many of them were occupied already, judging from the personal bags and effects strewn over them, but there were still plenty available. Billee and Farillon moved to an area on the side where two bunks were empty, and placed their bags on the bedding. Billee set his gitar carefully at the head of the bed, hoping that it would remain safe. There was a chest at the foot of each bunk, which was probably to keep their things tidy, but he wasn't sure there'd be room for the gitar as well.

Sett and Goneril dropped the rest of the bags. "We have to get back to welcome the next lot," explained Sett, "but we'll no doubt see you around."

"Hi, Sett," came a voice from behind them, and they all turned.

The next bunk over was taken by a boy of about Farillon's age, a little younger than Billee but about the same height, with light brown curly hair and grey eyes. His features were too irregular to be truly handsome, but he appeared very attractive, all the same, expecially when he smiled, as he did now.

"Domin!" exclaimed Sett, and hurried to exchange a hug. "When did you get back?"

"This morning. I've been catching up with Tamina. I told you they couldn't keep me away forever."

"It _seemed_ like forever."

"I know." He heaved a sigh. "But I'm back now."

"For how long?"

Domin shrugged. "Depends. If I don't impress this time I have to stay there until I gain my journeyman's knots." He grimaced at the thought, then grinned. "But that's not going to happen. I'll impress this time, I know I will."

"You'd better."

Goneril pulled at Sett's sleeve, and he looked back to the cavern's entrance. "Oh, shards, I really need to get back. I'll catch you later, Domin."

"Sure," said Domin, and watched them go with a fond smile. Then he turned to Billee and Farillon. "So, I'm Domin. Where are you from? And what are your names?"

"I'm Billee, and this is Farillon. We're from Fort Hold."

"Hmm. A harper and a herdsman," he pronounced, looking at the shoulder knots that indicated their craft and rank. Then he looked inquiringly at Billee, saying, "But you sound like you're from the north."

"I was born at High Reaches Hold."

Domin's eyes widened. "It's a long way from there to Fort Weyr."

Billee shrugged. "It's not that far. It's just the mountain range that makes it difficult."

"Not for a dragon. If we impress, we'll be able to go anywhere on Pern in the blink of an eye."

Billee smiled. That would be worthwhile, he thought. He'd be able to see his parents and sisters whenever he could get the time off. It wouldn't hurt his sisters' marriage prospects, either, to know that there was a dragonrider in the family.

He reached for his bag and started to undo the knots.

"Don't unpack too much," cautioned Domin. "One way or another, we'll be moving after the hatching."

"Oh?"

Domin gestured around the cavern. "See how the spaces are a lot bigger on this side? That's for browns and bronzes. Blues and greens are smaller, so they get the smaller spaces over there. The day after the hatching, F'neldril will sort us all into groups and we'll move our things. Luckily we'll be the only class in the barracks, so we'll have plenty of space to spread out."

Billee looked around. The spaces still seemed enormous to him, but he tried to imagine them filled with twenty or thirty yearling dragons. He shook his head. "I'll take your word for it, but the place is so large I can't ever imagine it being crowded."

Domin laughed. "Wait until next year, then you'll see. Say, have you seen the Hatching Grounds yet?" he asked, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

"Only as we flew in."

"Oh? Who brought you?"

"Green rider T'ristin."

"T'ristin," repeated Domin slowly. "I don't know the name. Was he old or young?"

"Very young."

"He must have Impressed at Holth's last clutch then." He frowned. "I wasn't here, and lost track of the weyrlings. I'll have a bit of catching up to do now I'm back."

"Where were you?"

"Southern Boll," he answered shortly. "Come on. I'll show you around."

Domin took them across the bowl and led them on a tour of the main areas of the weyr - the infirmary, dining hall, the bathing pools, the corridor that led to the main storerooms, guarded by the doughty Headwoman Nesso, and the stairs that led to the Council room and the chambers of the senior riders - the golds and the wingleaders.

"Keep out of there," he cautioned. "The seniors don't like weyrlings hanging around and they're likely to give you some job to do if they see you."

Billee laughed. "I'll remember that."

"Hmm. Where shall we go next? Ah - do you want to see the eggs?"

"Don't we get to see them anyway?"

"We'll get a quick look at the grounds as part of the pre-Impression training, but not close. Not as close as I can get you. Besides, this is more fun."

"We shouldn't," said Farillon, disapprovingly. "Animals don't like to be disturbed when they've got eggs or young with them."

Domin looked offended. "Dragons aren't animals. And we won't disturb them - we'll just be looking at them."

Farillon shook his head. "I thnk it's a bad idea."

"Well, you go back to the cavern then. Billee, are you up for it?"

Billee watched Farillon walk back the way they'd just come. On the one hand, he really wanted to see a dragon's egg up close, especially if it could be done without several hundred people looking on - it might help him to be a bit less nervous at the Hatching. On the other hand, he thought Farillon was right - it wasn't a good idea to disturb a broody dragon. But on the other hand (Shells! How many hands did he have?), he didn't want Domin to think him a coward. He had taken a liking to the chatty lad and wanted Domin to like him back. After just a moment's hesitation, he nodded. "Aye, let's do it."

"Hah! I knew you were a right one when I saw you," crowed Domin, and set off at a brisk pace. Billee followed him along the corridors that led deep into the weyr rock. They were poorly lit and quite warm, and he hoped that Domin knew what he was doing - and where he was going.

"That Farillon - is he a friend of yours?"

"No. I only met him this morning."

"Figures."

"How so?"

"Well, I didn't see you being friends with someone as ... as _solid_ as he is. He looks like he's never broken a rule in his life."

"Maybe he hasn't," answered Billee with a grin.

"I have an awful feeling he's going to impress a bronze, you know. They seem to be a very serious lot."

"I didn't think you could tell which colour you'll impress."

"You can't - well, except for the golds, of course. But most of the bronze riders seem to be terribly serious and responsible. Not all of them, thank heavens, but an awful lot of them. It's almost enough to make me want a brown instead."

"You want a bronze?"

Domin cocked his head. "I guess. They're the ones whose riders become the Weyrleaders and wingleaders. My father's a wingsecond - he rides brown Carnath - and I suppose I want to do better than he did. My brother impressed a bronze, and father was so proud of him." He stopped, suddenly, as if he'd been going to say something more, but changed his mind. The he shrugged. "I wished so hard for a bronze the last time. I really wanted a bronze, like D'col ..." his voice trailed off, then he pulled himself together. "But if this is my last Impression, then I'll be happy with anything - even a green."

Billee was about to ask why a green was such a poor option when the corridor narrowed and dimmed. They had to walk in single file for about a hundred paces, and Billee began to feel a little claustrophobic. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, though, he could see a glimmer of light up ahead, and concentrated on that.

"Are you sure this is the right way?" he whispered.

"Yes. I've been down here plenty of times in the past. Trust me."

Trust him? He'd only just met him! Billee started to wonder if perhaps it might have been better to have listened to Farillon.

Domin stopped suddenly and Billee ran into him. "Watch it!" hissed Domin. "We don't want to get caught here."

"Well, don't stop so suddenly."

"Shh!"

Domin peered cautiously around a corner, then beckoned to Billee to get in front of him. Through a narrow crack in the rockface, Billee could see the eggs on the sand, Orlith's body curled around them protectively.

"They're so big!" he whispered. They were huge, in fact - at least half his height, maybe more, he guessed.

"Well, a dragon's a bit bigger than a wherry, you know."

"Yes, but ..." his voice trailed off as Orlith lifted her head and looked in their direction. He jumped back, hoping that she hadn't seen them.

"What it is?" asked Domin.

"The queen! I think she saw me."

Domin took a quick peek around the rock, then jumped back himself. "Shards! We'd better get out of here before she sends someone to look for us. Come on!"

He grabbed Billee by the hand and they retraced their steps as fast as possible. They reached the relative safety of the store rooms just in time to hide behind some barrels as someone hurried past, holding a basket of glows in front of them.

"Phew, that was close," breathed Domin as soon as the cave was quiet again. "Let's get back to the barracks. It'll be dinner time soon anyway."

"Does everyone eat together?"

"Hardly! There are fifteen hundred people here, you know. Nursery has its own kitchen, of course, but everyone else eats in shifts. That's why we can't be late."

Well, Billee knew all about that from his days at High Reaches Hold, and he hurried along behind Domin.

When they reached the weyrling barracks, they found that several newcomers had arrived. Billee was introduced to Barret, a tall and handsome youth who was a younger son of Holder Nillader of Ruatha River Hold, and Harellan, who seemed absurdly young at 13, though Domin told him that it was the usual age for weyr-bred boys to present as Candidates. Domin pounced on a stocky boy of medium height with soft blond hair, whom he introduced as Seegan. They had been friends since their nursery days, but Domin's sojourn in the South had separated them for two Turns, and they spent some time catching up on Weyr events, which gave Billee a very useful introduction to the people and personalities he might be dealing with in the next few Turns.

The bell sounded for the evening meal, and Domin, Seegan and Harellan guided the other Candidates to the dining hall. It was enormous, seating five or six hundred, but it still appeared crowded to Billee's eyes. There was a head table for the senior people, Domin explained, but the rest of the tables weren't reserved. The first sitting was for lower caverns staff, the elderly and the youngsters who were no longer in the nursery, including weyrlings and the Candidates. The second sitting was for the riders, craftsmen and a few senior lower caverns staff. Drudges and cooks ate in the kitchen itself.

B'lee looked around. The hall, like every indoor space on Pern, was lit with glowbaskets hanging from hooks that jutted out from the walls. Between the hooks there were tapestries, shifting slightly as the air moved around them. They depicted scenes from previous Passes, including several Threadfalls, and B'lee wondered if perhaps someday he would feature in one.

The meal was basic - herdbeast in a vegetable stew - but tasty, accompanied by slices of bread and jugs of water. Billee found that he was very hungry after all the exploring he'd done, but when he reached for a second helping, he found that Domin held his arm back.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Food is rationed here. We depend on tithes from the Holds, which means that we can't be seen to be greedy. It'll be a little better in the Autumn, when the harvest tithes come in, but summer is always one helping only. Sorry."

Billee let his arm drop, embarrassed at his gaffe. He'd never been rationed before, as Holds always had enough food, though it tended to get a little monotonous if the traders were delayed by Thread. He'd seen the tithing trains leave for High Reaches Weyr many a time, but outside his rote-learning of the Teaching Ballads he'd never really thought about what it meant to the Weyrfolk, to depend for every mouthful on the generosity of others.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, feeling his face reddening.

"Don't worry," Domin reassured him. "Just make sure you take a bigger serve next time."

After the meal, they were hurried out of the hall so that the drudges could clear the tables in time for the second sitting. They strolled back to the Weyrling Barracks chattering and laughing among themselves.

As he got into his bunk that night, Billee listened to the sounds of fifty or sixty boys around him, and wondered who would impress, and who would go home. He hoped that Domin would be one of the ones who impressed. He liked the lad, and found him easy to get on with. He might even go so far as to say he had made a friend - not bad for his first day in a Weyr.


	2. Impression

_Sixth month, 34th Turn of the Present Pass_

Billee hadn't given much thought to what he'd be doing in the days before the Hatching, but he found that the Fort Weyr people had worked out a routine for them already.

Firstly, they were measured for the white gowns they would wear for the Hatching, which were simply two lengths of material joined at the shoulder and sides (when he tried it on, the following day, Billee thought he looked ridiculous in it, but then so did everyone else). They were also measured for and given crude but sturdy sandals, with double-thickness leather soles, as all the Candidates would be standing on the hot sand for several hours.

After lunch, they were taken on an official tour of the Weyr, ending up near the Hatching Ground. They could see Orlith protecting her eggs, and Billee wondered if she remembered seeing him with Domin the day before. Clioth, her current mate, was with her this morning, and had brought her a fat herdbeast to eat, judging from the bloody remains on the sands. The heat from the grounds was barely felt from where they stood, but the Weyrlingmaster, brown rider F'neldril, assured them that the sand would be hot when they eventually stood there.

No one knew exactly when the Hatching would occur, but it was expected any day now. It was both exciting, since few of them had attended a Hatching before, and tedious, because they couldn't go anywhere in case they missed it. They spent their time in the Weyrling Barracks or in the dining hall, or in exploring.

Billee and Domin became firm friends almost immediately, in spite of the difference in age. They had the same sense of humour, and found themselves giggling at the same moment on several occasions. Domin was convinced that Billee was going to impress, and insisted on giving him a much more in-depth tour than he had done on the first day, even braving Holth's weyr to show Billee the council room, with its spectacular half-oval table, inlaid with precious stones and surrounded by ornate chairs.

They visited all the Weyr's crafthalls and accessible storerooms. In the weaving room, Domin introduced him to a pleasant, fair-haired woman called Tamina, who turned out to be his mother. She was weaving a tapestry for the Weyrleader's chamber, showing the young Leri on Holth during the first Threadfall of the Pass, thirty-four years ago. Leri was now grey-haired and afflicted with joint-ail, but Billee could see that she had been beautiful in her youth. The work was slow and laborious, involving much fine detail and switching of colours, but it was going to be magnificent when it was finished. He said so, and received a warm smile from both of them in return.

The next day, Domin and Seegan took Billee through some of the back corridors that weren't used anymore. It was quite eerie, following dusty trails for what seemed like forever. At least the other two appeared to know where they were going, and pointed out old chambers with odd remains of boxes and unusual wall decorations. It was interesting, but Billee was thankful when they emerged back into one of the main corridors.

He met a few of the Weyrfolk as well. Domin introduced him to several of the younger riders and they welcomed him warmly. Some of them seemed a little more affectionate than he was used to, but Billee put that down to the close friendships that would naturally develop in a fighting wing. They were interested to hear that he was a harper, though he was careful to stress that he was still an apprentice. Inevitably, he was forced to play a couple of ballads for them, and they complimented him on his voice and gitar-playing.

* * *   
Two mornings later, the Candidates woke up to a strange sound in the air - a faint, vibrant humming noise. He wondered what it was, and didn't have to wait long to find out. As soon as Domin woke up and heard the noise, he jumped out of bed.

"The Hatching!" he cried.

"What?"

"The dragons are humming. The Hatching will start soon." He opened his chest and pulled out the white Candidate robe. "We'll have to be quick about bathing. F'neldril will be coming along soon to make sure we're ready."

"What about breakfast?"

"Oh!" Domin stilled. "Perhaps we'd better get breakfast first. I'm sure they won't mind us going in early for once." He grabbed his everyday tunic and breeches, then hunted under the bunk for his boots.

Billee got up and pulled his clothes quickly but with little wasted energy. He spotted Domin's boots by the wall and pointed them out, earning himself a brilliant smile.

"Thanks! I couldn't remember where I'd thrown them."

Shards! but the boy was attractive when he smiled like that. Billee imagined that he must have all the girls after him wherever he went, and couldn't help but feel a little envious.

They were the first out of the barracks, and ran across the bowl to the dining hall. Domin grabbed Billee's hand and led him to one of the tables closest to the kitchens. The drudges were already laying out cauldrons of porridge and slices of meat, and the boys helped themselves to generous portions. The rest of the candidates followed, in twos and threes, all of them trying to scoff down as much food as they could.

"Eat up," cautioned Domin. "It's going to be a long day, and you won't eat again until Impression's over."

Billee obeyed, and felt uncomfortably full as he followed Domin back to the weyrlings' bathing pool.

As predicted, F'neldril was waiting for them when they got back. He ordered the rest of them to bathe and change, and once they were all arrayed in front of him, cleaned and robed, he addressed them seriously, explaining the procedure that would be followed at the Hatching.

"Now, remember, there are many more of you than there are eggs. If you're not chosen this time, you'll get another chance. At least, most of you will." And did his eyes glance over at Billee? Or was it Domin? Billee couldn't tell for sure. Domin simply stood with his head bowed. Well, if he'd been a Candidate before, no doubt this was all old news to him.

"If you are approached by a dragonet, stay quite still until you are sure it's going to pass you, then step out of its way. Don't panic and don't run - I've seen Candidates get badly injured when they panic. The dragons will be clumsy and uncoordinated, and all they care about is getting to the one they want. It's up to you to remember that and to behave accordingly."

They all nodded, solemnly.

"Once you have impressed, you'll know the dragonet's name, and you'll feel his or her hunger. Believe me, the dragonets will be extremely hungry. You must escort your dragonets back here to the barracks, where we'll record their names and fresh meat will be waiting. They'll feed, and then will most likely fall asleep until the next morning."

"How will we know their names?" asked one candidate.

"They'll tell you," said F'neldril. "Every dragon is born knowing its own name."

They was a little buzz of comment at that. Billee couldn't understand how a newborn could know its own name - let alone be able to communicate it - but if F'neldril said it, then it had to be true.

The weyrlingmaster cleared his throat to get their attention again, and continued. "The day after Hatching the regular training will start. You'll be allocated a permanent space here in the barracks, where you and your dragon will sleep. Each day will begin with a meal for the dragonets, followed by grooming and oiling. If you're lucky, you'll finish by noon. Afternoons will be spent in lessons. The hours between dinner and glow-dim will be your own, for the time being. Any questions?"

"Don’t we get a weyr?" asked Billee.

"Not until your dragon can fly up to it! That'll be about a year. But don't fret," he added, looking at the disappointment on Billee's face, "the barracks will have plenty of space. And it's better for the young dragonets to be a little way away from the main Weyr until everyone learns to behave themselves."

Domin snorted, and F'neldril glared at him. "Yes, that applies to you too, Domin." The rest of the group laughed, and Domin blushed bright red. Billee thought he looked quite cute.

"What happens if we don't impress?" asked another boy, looking very anxious.

"You'll return here to collect your things, and report to the Assistant Headwoman, Marta, in the lower caverns. For those who wish to return home, transport will be provided. For those who wish to stay, suitable places will be arranged."

"Will you be taking all our lessons?"

"No. Assistant Weyrlingmaster R'lan here will be in charge of you as a class and will conduct the majority of your lessons during the first year. You will also have lessons from various craftmasters in aspects of their crafts that relate directly to dragons and to fighting Thread. Of course, I will be taking some sessions myself and getting a feel for how each of you is developing, but I spend most of my time with the advanced class."

He paused, and Billee glanced at the Assistant Weyrlingmaster, who was about fifteen years younger but otherwise a carbon copy of the steely-eyed F'neldril. The Weyr obviously took its responsibilities seriously when it came to the instruction of weyrlings, and no laxity would be permitted.

"Are there any more questions? Right then, to breakfast, all of you, and then straight over to the Hatching Ground."

"How much time do we have?" asked Barret.

F'neldril cocked his head to listen to the humming. "A few hours, I think, but eggs have been known to hatch early, so it's best to be over there as soon as possible."

They were led in a group to the Hatching Ground. This time they were allowed onto the sands, and Billee felt the heat radiating up from the ground. It wasn't too bad this far out, Domin told him that later on, when they had to stand near the eggs, it would make their feet burn.

"How do the dragons cope?"

Domin shrugged. "They don't seem to feel heat or cold as much as we do. They can still burn though. Even Orlith will turn over every now and then - you'll see."

They passed the time in swapping stories of Hatchings past, when the unlikeliest of candidates succeeded, or when a favourite Candidate had somehow failed to impress. Billee noted that Domin appeared to be getting more and more nervous, and asked him if he was all right.

"I'm fine."

"So what upsets you?"

Domin bit his lip. "It's my final chance at Impression. My father told me that if I don't impress this time I have to go back to the Weaverhall in Southern Boll and stay there until I get my journeyman's knots. I'll be too old after that."

Billee gave Domin a reassuring thump on the shoulder. "Don't worry, it's no bad life, being a craftsman. And if I'm not too old, then surely you'll have other chances. Just relax. If you worry too much the dragons won't come anywhere near you."

"Easy for you to say. You're Hold-bred. I've been expected to impress since I was twelve years old."

"You can't force Impression, Domin - that's what everyone's been telling us every day since I got here."

"I know. But ..."

"But nothing. There are 31 eggs and 53 candidates. Those are pretty good odds."

Domin sighed. "I know. I just want to be a dragonrider."

"We all do. I know you'll make it."

"Thanks, Billee. I know you will, too."

They shook hands, and Domin followed that up with a hug, resting his head on Billee's shoulder for a few minutes. Billee patted his shoulder comfortingly, and hoped that his new friend would impress.

The humming around them grew louder and more like a weird chorus, the dragon voices blending and harmonising in strange ways that ought to have been discordant, but weren't. Orlith was up on her haunches now, looking down at the eggs on the sand.

Over on the other side of the Grounds there were a few hundred people scrambling to get onto the benches that took up the southern side. The light in the cavern dimmed at irregular intervals as dragons deposited various senior people from outside Fort Weyr - other weyrleaders, weyrwomen and even several Lords Holder. Everyone loved a Hatching, it seemed.

Billee stood with Domin and the other candidates, suddenly wishing he could be anywhere else but here. All the confidence he'd had when he'd spoken to Domin just a little while ago seemed to have evaporated, leaving nothing in its wake but anxiety. He was only going to make a fool of himself, after all. What use was a Hold-bred harper's apprentice when there were so many dragonriders' sons here? He should just walk off now and get the humiliation over and done with.

Then he shook himself. What sort of defeatist attitude was that? Salteth had selected him from all the boys and men in the Harperhall, and the dragon was well-known for the success of his Candidates. He should have more faith in that, and in himself.

The humming sound was all around him, getting deep into his bones until he wanted to scream. A small commotion arose towards the far end of the Ground.

"One of the eggs is rocking!" whispered Domin, excitedly. "It'll crack any minute now."

At that moment there was a sharp _crack!_ and the rocking egg split apart, revealing a dragonet of delicate green, who scrambled to get clear of the fragments and almost tripped over her own wings. One of the boys nearby knelt down to help her right herself, and their eyes met. Suddenly the boy's face was illuminated by utter joy, and the dragonet butted her head against the boy's shoulder. Applause sounded from the far side, and Billee realised that the first Impression had occurred.

It was about ten minutes before the next egg cracked open, but after that there were several that hatched at once, and Billee watched as four of his new friends became dragonriders. He tried to watch all the rocking eggs, trying to figure out if it would be better to stay in one spot or to move around the Ground to catch each dragon as it appeared. While he was thinking about it, three more Impressions occurred.

Time passed, eggs cracked, and Impressions were made ... until there were only a couple of eggs left to hatch. Billee was starting to get nervous - there were still twenty or so candidates on the grounds, and they were all approaching the two remaining eggs. Some of them looked very confident, and his hopes fell again. How could he possibly have hoped to compete with the Weyr-bred boys? They were younger, but they had been around dragons all their lives. Of course one of them would impress, not him, not the poor harper apprentice from the north.

The nearer egg rocked and cracked, and a small blue dragonet practically leapt from the shell, tumbling over himself and landing a few feet away. He mewled with such a piteous tone that Billee moved to help him immediately, setting him back on his feet and untangling the wings. Then he looked into the whirling red eyes and was lost in a maelstrom of love and tenderness and hunger such as he'd never experienced before.

 _My name is Margroth_ , said the dragon, but without speaking.

"I'm Billee," he whispered. _You're so beautiful. I love you,_ he thought.

 _And I love you,_ replied the dragon, _but I'm hungry!_

And Billee realised that he had impressed, that he was Margroth's rider now, and that they were both of them very hungry. He looked up and saw that F'neldril was beckoning to him from the side of the Hatching Ground. The last dragonet - a brown - had also impressed, and was making his way there already. The remaining candidates were standing disconsolately around, not sure what to do. Billee felt sorry for them, but there was nothing he could do or say that would alleviate the crushing disappointment of failing to impress - he could only hope that they would have another chance one day. In the meantime, he had a hungry dragonet to look after.

 _Come on,_ he said to Margroth. _We need to go over there to get food._

Margroth waddled across the sands as fast as he was able, and they joined the small group of dragonets still feeding.

"There you are, lad," said the weyrlingmaster approvingly, as a drudge handed Billee a hefty chunk of meat. "Get that into your dragon and he'll soon start to feel better."

"Thank you," breathed Billee as he narrowly avoided having his fingers swallowed along with the meat.

"What's his name?"

"Margroth," he replied, still astonished that the dragonet had known his own name and had been able to tell him. "His name is Margroth."

F'neldril made a note on the slate he held. "Well, B'lee and Margroth, as soon as you've satisfied the initial hunger, you can make your way back to the Weyrling Barracks to rest."

B'lee nodded, still shoving meat into his dragonet's maw as fast as he could, and scarcely noticing the honorific contraction that was due to him as a dragonrider. F'neldril turned away as the final dragonet and his rider approached, and B'lee could see, from the corner of his eye, that the spectators were rising from their seats and moving out, no doubt to sit and gossip over who had and who hadn't impressed.

At least Domin had impressed, too. He'd seen the boy embrace a green earlier on - not the bronze he'd boasted about, nor even a brown, but at least a green was still a dragon, and he didn't have to walk off the sand on his own, as the disappointed candidates were doing now. And it wasn't Domin anymore, he reminded himself. Domin was now D'min, and he was B'lee.

He remained at the feeding table for a few minutes more, stuffing Margroth's mouth every few seconds until the whirling red eyes had changed to a more contented green and each morsel had ceased to be followed by a cry for more. The dragonet bumped his head against Billee's midsection. _Tired,_ he announced.

 _Come on then. We need to go over there to rest._ B'lee guided the dragonet across the bowl to the Weyrling Barracks. As F'neldril had said, all the other dragonets were in the cavern, scattered around central area, most of them sleeping or crooning softly against their rider's flanks. There was a space near D'min and his green, and B'lee gently prodded Margroth until they could squeeze in next to them.

D'min looked up and smiled, and B'lee felt something peculiar in his middle. No one could ever call the boy handsome - his features were too irregular for that - but with the glow of Impression on his face he seemed like the most beautiful thing B'lee had ever seen in his life. He tried to ignore the thought that he must have the same goofy, adoring expression on his face, and sat down on the sand.

"Hi," said D'min, softly, not wanting to disturb the sleeping dragonet whose head was resting over his legs. "You made it."

"So did you."

"Yeah. This is Aurieth," he said, stroking the dragonet's head.

"And this is Margroth. Margroth, this is Domin - I mean D'min. He's a friend."

Margroth turned slightly to see D'min, but his eyes were rolling green and all he said to B'lee was, _Sleepy._

"So sleep, then, little one. I'll still be here when you wake up."

 _More food then?_

B'lee laughed. "Yes, there'll be more food."

 _Good._ Margroth lay down on the sand, winding his tail around B'lee's body as if to ensure he wouldn't run away.

"I can't believe I actually impressed." D'min was still incredulous.

"I knew you would," said B'lee consolingly.

"I was so afraid I wouldn't. I feel sorry for the ones who were left. I know how it feels to walk off the sands on your own."

"They'll have other chances."

D'min nodded. "I hope so." He sat forward and hugged his knees, leaning slightly to one side so that he remained in contact with Aurieth. "It's such an unbelievable feeling. It doesn't matter how many times you see it, going through it yourself is so much more than you imagine."

"It's certainly more than I ever imagined." They shared a smile at the wonder of Impression and the knowledge that each of them was now bound for life to a creature that would love them unconditionally and completely, to the point of death.

There was a buzz of voices at the cavern entrance, and B'lee saw that family and friends were trickling in, having made the long trek around from the spectator stands tiered above the Hatching Ground. A short, stocky rider with a wingsecond's knot on his shoulder came up to them, and D'min scrambled to his feet. "Father!"

"D'min," said the rider, with a smile. "So you impressed at last."

"Yes, father."

"You can call me D'ran now. We're all riders now."

"Yes ... D'ran," said D'min, hesitantly.

D'ran looked at the dragonet curled up on the sand. "Pity it's just a green. I was hoping you'd get a brown or even a bronze but," he cast a shrewd glance at the boy, "maybe that was never an option, hmm?"

D'min flushed, and B'lee wondered what had happened to make D'ran speak to his son in such a manner.

"Still, a dragon's a dragon, after all, and we need every one of them. I'm proud of you, son." He clapped a hand on D'min's shoulder, and gave a terse smile.

"Thanks father - D'ran."

"D'col would have been proud of you too."

D'min nodded, and B'lee pretended he didn't see the tears that glittered briefly in the boy's eyes.

D'ran cleared his throat. "And make sure you see Tamina in the next day or two. Give her the opportunity to make a fuss of you."

"I'll do that."

D'ran moved on, greeting the new brown and bronze riders. D'min was muttering to himself angrily, petting Aurieth's neck. "Just a green? She not _just_ a green. She's the most beautiful dragon in the world!"

"Apart from Margroth," B'lee said, with a twinkle in his eye. He hadn't been around the Weyr for two days before he had found out that every rider considered his dragon to be the most beautiful on Pern, and he wasn't going to break tradition or let Margroth be slighted.

D'min acknowledged his correction with a sly grin. "I'll allow Margroth to be the most beautiful blue if you'll allow Aurieth to be the most beautiful green."

"That sounds fair," said B'lee, and they shook hands on it. D'min hand was warm and dry, and B'lee felt a slight reluctance to let it go.

He sat and watched the greetings continuing around him. It would have been nice to have had his own family with him for this, but his father and brothers were all busy, and his mother was looking after the wife of one of his brothers, who had just lost a baby. B'lee would just have to write and tell them his news and no doubt they'd would write back with their congratulations. He wouldn't allow himself to feel sad just because they weren't here at the Weyr with him - after all, he was old enough to stand on his own two feet.

Still, he was very happy when he saw Masterharper Tirone, accompanied by a serious-looking man in his forties, striding towards him, and jumped up to greet them.

"Billee, my boy!" Tirone declaimed. "Or, B'lee, I should say. Congratulations. I knew you'd do well. And such a handsome blue! I should have known you'd pick harper colours!"

It was such a ridiculous thing to say that B'lee had to laugh. "I didn't do it on purpose."

"Never admit that. Say nothing and look down your nose - it will make people wonder if you did manage to do it deliberately." He clapped a hand to B'lee's shoulder. "I don't know if you've met the Fort Weyr harper, Willan." They shook hands and Tirone continued. "B'lee here was one of our most promising apprentices, and would have walked the tables at summer solstice had he stayed at the Hall. It cost us a pang to part with him - Master Tondil was particularly sad to see him go. But he has impressed, and will now be serving Pern in a different capacity."

"I hope to see more of you," said Willan, politely. "Once your training has finished, perhaps you may care to play in with us in the evenings occasionally."

"Thank you," said B'lee, rather stunned. "I'd like that."

Willan had spotted D'min, and nodded to him. "Greetings, D'min. I heard you'd been reprieved from Southern Boll. Congratulations. She's a fine-looking dragon."

"Thank you," murmured D'min, uncharacteristically quiet.

"No, no need to be bashful, lad. You're not under my jurisdiction any more, for which I am sure we're both grateful. I think you'll do well as a dragonrider - as long as you learn your lessons and remember them when they're needed."

"Yes, Harper Willan."

The Masterharper nodded to both boys and then continued around the cavern, greeting those he knew.

D'min looked at B'lee shrewdly. "You have friends in high places, I see."

"It's nothing like that," B'lee said hurriedly. "Master Tirone never spoke to me before I was Searched. But he was kind enough to say that I could go back to the Harperhall if I failed to impress."

"That was good of him."

Just then one of the older weyrlings came over with food, checking that everyone had had something to eat and whatever else they needed. B'lee took a drink - he was quite thirsty after all those hours on the hot sand - and a large meatroll. He leaned back against his dragon and ate his meal, watching D'min do the same, trying to come to terms with the momentous change that had just occurred in his life. No longer was he simply Billee, apprentice harper with a Hall and a Hold to go back to. Now he was B'lee, a dragonrider of Fort Weyr. He could go anywhere on Pern in the blink of an eye (well, he would be able to once he had learned how to go _between_ ), he could command the respect of holders and craftmasters alike, and he had just acquired a family of five hundred brothers. It was a lot to think about.


	3. First Steps

_Summer, 34th Turn of the Present Pass_

The morning after the Hatching they were woken shortly after dawn by the hungry creeling of the dragonets. It was only a matter of minutes before the drudges appeared with mounds of fresh-killed meat, but to the young dragons and their riders, it seemed like an eternity. D'min, B'lee and S'gan (who had also impressed a green) found themselves feeding their dragons from the same platter, and grinned among themselves to see them all greedily clamouring for more.

The Assistant Weyrlingmaster and a couple of the older riders supervised the youngsters, telling them that they would soon be learning how to kill and butcher the meat for the dragonets, so as to prevent them choking or gorging. It would be many months before the dragons would be strong enough and skilled enough to hunt for themselves, and until then their riders would have to care for them.

As soon as the dragons had eaten, they were taken down to the caldera lake at the southern end of the Weyr bowl to bathe. D'min complained that the water was too cold, and had to suffer some teasing on account of his long sojourn in the south, which had obviously thinned his blood. To B'lee, the water was a little chilly - certainly not conducive to swimming - but it wasn't nearly as bad as High Reaches in winter. The dragons seemed to enjoy themselves, and splashed water in all directions as they waddled in, flapping their wings and ducking their heads under the water.

After the bath, the weyrlings were shown how to inspect a dragon's skin for dry or flaky patches. It was more than mere vanity, as dry skin would crack in the cold of _between_ , and could endanger a dragon's life. Inspection would be a part of their everyday routine, and they were told never to go anywhere without a small pot of salve that could be applied to any suspect patch.

D'min snickered. "I can certainly vouch for the absolute necessity of always carrying a small pot of salve. One might need it in the unlikeliest of places!"

A couple of the boys around him laughed, but R'lan gave him a quelling look, and D'min suddenly acquired a renewed and fierce interest in Aurieth's skin.

Feeding, washing and oiling the dragons took up the entire morning, and B'lee was glad to reach the dining hall for the noon meal. He was exhausted already, and had a full afternoon of lessons to look forward to before he could rest.

Luckily, R'lan knew better than to overburden tired minds and bodies with too much new information. Their first task was to move their belongings to the bunks they were allocated. B'lee noted that the bronzes and browns were concentrated along the north wall, where the spaces were larger, while the blues and greens occupied the southern walls. To B'lee's delight he still had D'min on his right side. S'gan was on D'min's right, and R'vil, a quiet boy who had impressed a blue, on B'lee's left.

Once chests were placed at the bottom of their new bunks and sheets had been changed, R'lan started them on one of the first duty ballads, one which named all the senior riders of the six Weyrs and emphasised the duty that dragon riders owed their leaders. After they had sung through that a few times, he taught them how to make their shoulder knots. The knots were to be worn every day that they weren't fighting Thread (when they would be covered by wherhide jackets anyway), ostensibly as a way of making sure that duty owed was duly given. There was a more relevant practical value too - as long as they were properly identified, weyrlings couldn't be tasked by anyone except the Weyrleader, Weyrwoman or the weyrlingmasters, and any transgressions made by themselves or their dragons would be dealt with by the weyrlingmaster.

They were each handed two lengths of thick cord, in black and dark brown, to denote, respectively, that they belonged to a Weyr and to Fort Weyr in particular. (1)   
Then they were given a thin cord of the same length in the colour of their dragon. B'lee and R'vil received a light blue, while D'min and S'gan received a light green.

The weyrling's knot was a fairly simple plait with a single loop and a short "tail" that hung either in front or to the side. It was so similar to the apprentice knot that B'lee finished his own in short order, and was able to help R'vil, who had never made one before. R'lan inspected the work and gave B'lee an approving nod before moving on to the next boy.

D'min scuttled over to see what had attracted R'lan's attention, and gave B'lee an admiring look when he saw the neat interweaving of the cords and the precise way that B'lee had tied them off at the loose end. "Nice work," he said.

"You've done well yourself," he replied. The cords were twisted evenly, but D'min's finishing wasn't as neat as his own, and he felt a secret delight that the Weyr-bred boy wasn't going to best him at everything.

D'min grinned and stayed with them to gossip until R'lan had ensured that all the class had finished their knots. They were then dismissed until the following morning, with instructions to wear the knots on their right shoulder from the evening meal onwards.

"I'd better go and show my mother," said D'min, in a long-suffering tone. "Come with me, B'lee, she liked you."

"Don't you want to show her on your own?" asked B'lee, though he started following D'min out of the barracks.

"No - she'll make too much of a fuss about it. If you're there she'll only make a little fuss."

B'lee laughed, and they walked out arm in arm. They were halfway across the bowl when they were overtaken by a group of youngsters who were on their way back from the lake. One of the boys yelled out "Domin! Domin!" and ran straight for him.

"Dokkerin!" D'min picked up the boy and swung him around a couple of times, before hugging him and setting him, laughing, back on his feet. D'min squatted down so that they were on the same level. "And what mischief are you up to today?"

"Not mischief! We were learning to swim!" giggled Dokkerin, and reached for D'min's knots. "You impressed! Mama told me. You impressed a green."

D'min took hold of Dokkerin's dirty hands and kept them away from his precious new knots, but smiled warmly. "They're not to play with, kid. And yes, I did impress. My dragon's called Aurieth, and she's beautiful. Do you want to meet her?"

"Yes, yes!" cried the boy, but he was overruled by the fair-haired woman who had stopped near them.

"Another day, perhaps," she said. "I have to keep them all together or they'll be all over the Weyr before I know it."

"That's all right, Henna. Another day, then, Dokkerin. Actually, she's asleep at the moment, so I couldn't really introduce you."

"Couldn't you wake her up?"

"Dokkerin!" he chided. "You know better than that. You don't wake a sleeping dragon. Especially not a hatchling."

"But I want to meet her!"

"Next time. For today you can meet B'lee. He impressed as well." D'min turned to B'lee and gave a half-apologetic smile. "B'lee, this scruffy little urchin is my brother Dokkerin. He's usually out of sight - and sound - in the nursery. Dokkerin, this is B'lee, who came here from the Harperhall and his dragon is blue Margroth." D'min indicated B'lee's knots. "See? He has a blue cord where I have a green cord."

"I can see," Dokkerin nodded, solemnly.

B'lee squatted down so that he was also at the same level. "Hello, Dokkerin," he said with a smile.

"Hello," Dokkerin repeated, a little more uncertainly, then turned back to D'min. "Father has a brown cord."

"That's right. Father has a brown cord because he rides a brown dragon."

"Come on, Dokkerin," Henna held out her hand. "We have to get back if you want your tea."

"Go on," D'min gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, and then pushed him gently in Henna's direction. "I'll see you again soon, I promise."

Dokkerin ran past Henna towards the caverns entrance, his blond curls bouncing with each step. Henna gave a quick smile and hurried after him.

"Sorry about that," began D'min.

B'lee laughed. "Don't be. He's just a normal boy. How old is he?"

"Four? Five? No, wait, he was born in 28, so he must be ... he was six Turns last month." He shook his head, ruefully. "I'm getting old."

B'lee laughed out loud at that, and D'min joined in. Then he linked their arms and pulled B'lee towards the caverns again. "Come on, let's see Tamina, and then we can go to dinner."

* * *

That evening B'lee wrapped his apprentice harper knot in a handkerchief and placed it on top of his Candidate's robe at the bottom of his chest. He would never wear it again, and it gave him a strange sense of loss. It wasn't that he regretted impressing Margroth - far from it - but it meant that he had effectively turned his back on his home. He felt a vague sense of disloyalty that he had ended up at Fort instead of High Reaches Weyr, but when he mentioned as much to D'min, he was told not to be so silly.

"We belong to Pern," said D'min, bluntly. "I know we wear Fort colours, but a dragonrider's first loyalty is to Pern. The Weyr comes second. There'll be times when we fly with other Weyrs, you know, if they're under strength, or if the Fall crosses Weyr boundaries. And there's a wing rotation program that happens over the summer. We have the third Telgar wing flying with us at the moment, and they have our third wing. Ista swaps with us later in the summer. Next year is Igen and then Benden, and then High Reaches and Telgar the year after, so you may end up back home for a few months anyway."

"Telgar has a wing here?"

"They're the ones with the white cords in their knots. Haven't you noticed them?"

"Not really."

"Honestly, B'lee, for a harper you can be pretty inattentive sometimes."

"I'm too tired to notice things." He was, too. He was exhausted, both from the long day and the unaccustomed activity. His muscles were starting to stiffen up, and he tried to reach around to massage a particularly annoying place near his right shoulder blade.

"Here," D'min slipped behind him. His hands found the troublesome spots immediately and started to knead out the knots and tension.

"That's good," he murmured.

"I'm always good."

"And so modest."

"No use being modest when I know I'm good."

B'lee couldn't help chuckling, even when D'min told him to keep still. It was at times like this that he remembered how young D'min really was.

* * *

The next few days were filled from morning until night with the lessons in the care of their dragons. At this early stage the dragonets had to be fed every day, and after each feed they needed cleaning and grooming. They were already growing at an astonishing pace - B'lee had paced Margroth's length every morning and there was visible change every two or three days. Skin so rapidly stretched became thin and patchy in a few hours, and it was a constant struggle to keep up with the oiling. Luckily each dragonet managed to acquire a crew of youngsters - weyrbrats and fosterlings - to help groom them, and the mornings were filled with the sounds of crooning dragonets basking in all the attention.

In the afternoons, while the dragonets slept, they had lessons on the history of the Weyrs and fighting Thread. For some of the boys these lessons were repetition, but to many of the Hold-bred they were new and interesting. R'lan made use of the greater experience of the Weyr-bred boys to help reinforce the lessons. He brought in the Weyr's harper, Willan, to teach them some of the lesser-known but important ballads concerning dragons and their riders, and Healer Berchar to help with lessons on the anatomy and physiology of the dragon.

B'lee was surprised to learn that there was a lot more to dragons and fighting Thread than the basic Teaching Ballads had told him, and a lot to remember. His harper training stood him in good stead when it came to rote-learning, and he was soon viewed as one of the best students. D'min, surprisingly, was also good, though as he pointed out, he was Weyr-bred and so had grown up with most of this.

The evenings, as F'neldril had promised, were free. In the height of summer it wasn't fully dark until almost eight in the evening, (2) and the weyrlings had about an hour of light to play games, do their personal chores or revise their lessons. They were expected to be in bed by glow-dim at nine, which B'lee thought was quite reasonable, given that most of the boys were only fourteen or fifteen Turns old. Since the dragonets woke at dawn every day and required so much care, even the older ones were usually tired enough to fall into bed without protest at glow-dim.

B'lee often lay awake in the darkness, listening to the other boys and dragonets around him. He was used to sleeping in a dormitory, but not one that had so many echoes and strange harmonics that drew his attention. His harper training had taught him to analyse noise and rhythm, and so it was that he identified the soft footfall of D'min slipping out of the cavern on the third night. He wondered where the boy was going, but fell asleep before his return.

* * *

The weyrlings had many duties. As well as caring for their dragons, they had to keep their part of the Weyrling Barracks clean and tidy, and their own clothes clean and in good repair. They were rostered for more onerous duties such as laundry and helping in the dining hall, and there were other, less savoury chores reserved for those on punishment detail.

D'min complained about the extra duties, but B'lee took it all more philosophically. He'd had a spell in the drum heights at the Harperhall, and nothing could match that for sheer exhaustion, not even scrubbing a dragonet. His present duties took up barely an hour a day, on average, and he had plenty of time for personal chores and for talking with his friends.

The only thing he didn't have much time for was his gitar. It was difficult to play, even softly, in the barracks, and there were rarely opportunities when he could get away to a place that was quiet enough for serious work - everywhere he went, he had people following the sound of his music and then begging him for a tune or two. He longed for time to practise his exercises, or to work out the tunes that he had in his head. Sadly, he realised that he would have to wait until he got his own weyr, and that was at least a Turn away.

Instead, he spent many hours just chatting with his new friends, and with D'min in particular. D'min and S'gan taught him to play dragon poker, a card game of simple rules and fiendish complexity. D'min said he'd been playing it since he was ten, but it didn't take B'lee long to realise that D'min was exceedingly bad at it, forgetting half the rules and ignoring the others, not to mention the fact that the other players only had to glance at his face to know what sort of a hand he had. S'gan was much better, and kept explaining things patiently to B'lee until he had grasped the concepts. He became reasonably good at it himself, aided by his ability to screen his emotions, but in his mind it was merely something to do until he got a weyr of his own.

* * *

It was odd how the riders seemed to separate into two groups. As D'min had predicted, they'd been allocated spaces according to the colour and size of their dragons, but even in other activities the bronze and brown riders tended to keep to themselves. They rarely joined the blues and greens for cards or games, or any sort of rough-housing, and they even tried to bathe at different times. One night, B'lee asked D'min about it, and received an odd look in response.

"Get used to it," said D'min with a shrug. "It always happens. I guess they don't want to be contaminated."

"What do you mean?"

D'min shrugged again and made a vague hand gesture. "Everyone knows what they say about blues and greens. I guess they don't feel all that comfortable about being around us for long periods."

B'lee didn't understand, and said so.

D'min looked at him in amazement. "Shards! Where have you been living all your life?"

"High Reaches Hold," said B'lee bluntly, and saw D'min relax and laugh.

"I guess you might not know at that," he conceded, and drew B'lee aside. "The thing is," he started, then hesitated. "It's just that ... well, _normally_ ..." he paused again, and B'lee swore he was going red. "Oh, Faranth's mighty clutch! It's just that green riders almost always look to other men, and so do most blues. Bronze and brown riders look to women."

"Look to?"

"Sleep with, mate with, shag, fuck, do the horizontal gather dance ... what do Hold people call it?"

B'lee's mouth had gone dry. He could barely comprehend what D'min had just said. "You mean that you ... umm ... _sleep with_ ... other men?"

"Every chance I get. Haven't you ever been with a man?

"Of course not!" B'lee almost shouted, if you could shout in a whisper. "Men sleep with women!"

D'min gave him a condescending look. "You Holders are all so narrow-minded. You think there's nothing outside your own experiences."

"It's got nothing to do with that. It's just ... it's not natural."

"It's uncommon, not unnatural."

"How can it be natural?"

D'min sighed. "Look, do you think it's wrong if a bronzerider lies with a queenrider when their dragons mate?"

"Well, no, of course not."

"Even if they hate each other normally?"

"Well ..."

"Even if they both have other weyrmates?"

"It's not their fault if their dragons are mating."

"Exactly! So why is there a problem when a green mates with another dragon and their riders do too?"

B'lee bit his lip and shrugged. He felt uncomfortable, but he had to admit that there was logic in D'min's argument. "I suppose there isn't, as long as they're both willing."

"Believe me, when dragonlust has you, you're willing."

"But what about afterwards?"

"What about it?"

"Do they have to ... well, stay together?"

"No. Some do - J'kin and T'manal for instance. And plenty of riders form pairings for a few months or Turns. But a lot of the time riders just come together in the flight. Weyrmates understand. Weyr-bred weyrmates, at any rate. Even the gold and bronze riders don't necessarily stay together. It's just what's good for the weyr."

B'lee thought about the gold and bronze riders. "So the Weyrleader and Weyrwoman aren't necessarily in love?"

D'min snorted. "Of course they aren't. I mean, some are - Leri and L'mal have been together for years - but sometimes it's just Weyr business that brings them together. The Telgar leaders don't even see each other outside Threadfall and mating flights."

"But that’s - How can they live like that?'

"Because M'tani is a good Threadfighter and Mellor runs a tight Weyr. The Weyr needs both of them to succeed. They each have their own weyrmates, but Hogarth flies Dalgeth consistently."

"That's ... very strange," said B'lee, finally. "I don't think I could do that."

"Wait until Margroth starts sniffing around a proddy green, then you'll understand."

He thought about that - about having lustful thoughts about another man - and shook his head. He still had difficulty understanding it, even after D'min's explanation. It certainly made sense of various comments he'd heard in the last month, though, and some of the things he'd seen.

"Your father," he started.

"What about him?"

"After the Hatching. Is that what he meant, when he said that Impressing a bronze wasn't an option for you?"

D'min's expression became bleak, but he answered in a firm voice. "Basically, yes."

B'lee bit his lip. Now that he knew the meaning, it seemed like a particularly cruel comment. "I'm sorry," he said.

D'min tried to laugh it off. "Hey, don't worry. It's by no means the worst thing he's ever said to me. And at least I impressed, even if it was on the third go. Some people never impress at all."

"I thought you said the Weyr folk were more accepting of it."

"Most of them are." He shrugged, then went on, "He was Hold-bred himself. I don't think he's ever got used to the greens, not really. Luckily my mother was a lot more relaxed about things. She didn't bat an eyelid when I started sampling the talent, except to tell me to tone it down a little. Well, I was a bit young for it, I guess."

His eyes clouded a little. "That's one of the reasons I was sent to Southern Boll Hold for a couple of years. Father - D'ran - thought I'd make a dragonrider but he really wanted me to impress a brown or, better yet, a bronze, like D'col."

"Who's D'col?" asked B'lee. "you've mentioned him before."

D'min's expression turned sad. "He was my half-brother - my other half-brother. He was five years older than me. He impressed a bronze on his first time on the Hatching Grounds - father was so proud of him he nearly burst. He went into 3 Wing when he was 16 and did really well - everyone was saying he was going to be a wingleader some day, when he was more experienced. Then one day he dived into a lake, only it was too shallow and he broke his neck. He died within minutes, and Valith went _between_."

"I'm sorry." B'lee reached over and touched D'min's arm.

"It's all right. It was a few Turns ago now, and these things happen. I got over it - at least, I thought I got over it. It was about the same time I realised I liked boys more than girls, and I went a bit wild. Father was furious. When he caught me in bed with - well, with a green rider who's still here so I won't mention his name - he had words with my mother and got me fostered out a couple of weeks later. He knew I wouldn’t be able to do anything indiscreet in a Hold." He sighed. "It was just me and my right hand for the entire time I was there. No talent to speak of, and no one who'd even think of giving me a decent fuck."

He chuckled and leaned forward. "I did try to seduce a blue rider who came with Master Capiam once - but he told me he already had a weyrmate. Pity, really. He had a great arse."

"How long were you at Southern Boll?"

"Almost two years."

"And you're 16 now."

"That's right," said D'min with a sly grin, watching keenly as B'lee worked it out.

"So you were sleeping with men when you were fourteen."

"And the occasional girl. But girls have to be careful, and they're not nearly as keen on it as guys are. Plus, why would they waste their time with a weyrling brat when there are so many unattached riders and craftsmen around? No, it's actually much easier to get essential experience with men, especially if you know your way around a Weyr ... and I learned my way around very young." He paused and tapped his fingers on his knees, the rhythm jarring and insistent. "It's funny, though. Whenever I thought about Impression, I always pictured a bronze. That’s what my father wanted, another bronzerider in the family, so it's what I wanted."

"Do you regret impressing a green?"

D'min shook his head and gave the classic dragonrider smile. "No, not now. Aurieth is so wonderful, I can't imagine being with any other dragon. And, let's face it," he added with a self-knowing grin, "I like men a lot more than I like women, at least in bed, so I guess she made the right choice after all."

"Is that why you've been slipping out every night? To see someone?"

"Shards! I didn't know you'd heard me."

"You're very quiet. It's just that it takes me a while to get to sleep sometimes, and I hear you get out of bed. But I don't think anyone else hears."

"That's good. We're not supposed to leave the barracks after glow-dim, but it's hard, with our days being so busy."

"So who are you seeing?"

D'min shook his head. "I don't kiss and tell."

"Just be careful. You don't want to get into trouble."

D'min grinned at him. "Don't worry, I won't."

There was silence for a few minutes. D'min started to get up, but B'lee had something else on his mind. "Margroth's a blue," he said flatly.

"Have you only just noticed?" asked D'min, teasingly.

"No. I mean, yes, of course I've noticed, it's just that ... does that mean that I have to like men?"

"No. Not all the blue riders are homo. Some are bi, some are het. Which are you?"

"I - I don't know," said B'lee, feeling that every time he learned something new it left him even more confused than before. "I've never thought about being anything else but girls. I never even knew it was possible for men to like other men."

D'min grinned. "Well, dear B'lee, anytime you want to know what homo loving is all about, you just let me know. I'll show you everything I know - and that's a _very_ impressive total, I can tell you."

B'lee managed a wry smile and a derisive tone. "Thanks, _dear_ D'min, but I don't think that will be necessary."

"Well, you never know. Keep your options open, that's what I always say." He got up and grinned down at B'lee. "If you do decide to experiment ... you should know that I'm not the only green rider who's after your arse."

"What!?" B'lee looked stunned. "Who?"

D'min shook his head. "No names, no ground drill. You'll just have to figure it out for yourself." He winked lasciviously and strolled off, whistling the tune of a very bawdy song that had B'lee blushing even to think of it. But there was just one more thing he had to ask ...

"D'min?"

"What?"

"What if Margroth flies Aurieth?

D'min laughed out loud. "Just be thankful Aurieth's the green!"

B'lee went white. He hadn't even thought of _that_.

 _To be continued._

(1) The system of knots as described in DGP (p 65 & 115) is impractical - there are not enough combinations of colours and styles to distinguish the various riders and craftsmen. The diagrams themselves are not coloured or clearly labelled for colour, and in some cases are mis-labelled (the first "wingleader" should in fact be "Weyrleader/Weyrwoman"). Unfortunately, the knots are not described in sufficient detail in the novels to resolve the discrepancies. Furthermore, the craft knot descriptions given in DGP do not match the portraits in POP, where Masterhealer Oldive and Masterharper Robinton are shown with a simple double twist of cord (not ribbon) in the craft colour. For the purposes of this story, therefore, I have included in Weyr knots a black cord denoting "Weyr" and in Craft knots a white cord denoting "Craft". The second cord identifies which Weyr or Craft, and for riders, the third, thinner cord identifies the colour of their dragon. Holders do not wear knots; they show their hold affiliation in badges or trims.

(2) Pern has an axial tilt of only 15 degrees, meaning that the tropics and arctic circles are much smaller, and the variability of sunrise and sunset through the seasons is smaller. Fort Weyr, being about 30 North of the equator, would have approximately 15 hours of sunshine at midsummer. Since there is no Daylight Saving Time on Pern, this means sunrise about 0430 and sunset about 1930. There would not be much in the way of twilight.


	4. Ground Drill

_Summer to Autumn, 34th Turn of the Present Pass_

The dragonets had been spreading their wings out and making vague flapping motions since the day after they were hatched, but as they grew their movements became stronger and more purposeful, and they spent an increasing amount of time with their wings in motion, even when not moving around the bowl. The more experienced riders nodded with approval, telling the weyrlings that this was how they strengthened the mighty chest and back muscles they would need for sustained flight.

Within two months the first dragonet had actually managed to get all four feet off the ground ... for a split second, before falling flat on her face. The weyrlings managed not to laugh.

It wasn't long after that, though, that the fledgling dragons started to make short, wing-assisted hops and jumps. Walking across the bowl became a hazardous duty that the smarter drudges and weyrfolk avoided if at all possible. The weyrlings, of course, had no such option, and learned to keep a sharp eye out for a sprawling wing or stray claw.

Their own training was becoming more intensive and more focussed. There was still a lot of rote learning in the training cavern, but the emphasis was shifting from history to more current topics, like why the wings flew in various formations, and how each type of dragon contributed to the overall strength.

B'lee already knew that the bronzes and browns were the largest, of course, while the blues and greens were more agile, but he had never given any thought to how that would affect their ability to fight Thread. The bronzes, he learned, could throw flame the furthest and for longer periods - they were of most use when Thread fell in large clumps, as it did on still or slightly cloudy days. However, they and the browns weren't as agile as the smaller dragons, and were at risk of getting scored if there was much wind, or if the Thread was falling in widely-dispersed, feathery drifts. The blues were able to help out by taking care of small clumps and were particularly useful against drifts, but they had to get closer to do it. The greens were the fastest and most agile, and would dive and turn in the air to catch any stray thread, protecting their wingmates as much as the ground beneath them. Their smaller frames tired easily, though, so they were rotated through the fall to avoid costly mistakes through fatigue. Even so, their short flame and close proximity to Thread meant that the greens bore the largest burden of injuries.

It was no wonder that the riders were expected to be able to treat Threadscore and other injuries. It was not uncommon for up to a fifth of a fighting wing to be out of action at any one time, and Fort Weyr was nowhere near full strength at the moment. They needed every able-bodied dragon they could get, and that meant minimising injuries and healing them quickly. The weyrlings were shown how to look for and spread ichor, that strange dark-green substance that served the dragons for blood and could be used to dress all but the most severe of open wounds. They were taught about numbweed, fellis and redwort, and many other lesser pharmaceuticals that they would need. They even went on field trips to ensure that they could recognise and prepare them in the wild, though B'lee sincerely hoped that he would never be required to do that, since he had the greatest difficulty in telling one green leaf from another.

* * *

It was late summer, towards the end of the ninth month, when B'lee turned 20. He hadn't told anyone that it was his birthday, and the day passed, usual, in dragon care and classes. He was overjoyed to get a letter from his mother at High Reaches Hold the following day, telling him that his oldest sister had hand-fasted to one of his father's assistants and was soon to give birth. She also told him that his brothers were doing well, and that his father was now reconciled to the fact that his youngest son was a dragonrider and not a harper. It was a cheery and chatty letter, and he read it over and over again. He could almost smell the cold, salty northern air, and it made him acutely homesick.

D'min, being D'min, prodded him in the shoulder and asked what was wrong.

"Nothing. I just got a letter from my mother. I'm a little homesick."

"Ah." He paused, and looked at the letter longingly. "Must be nice. I never got a letter in my life," he confided.

B'lee looked puzzled. "Never?"

"Never. Not even when I was at the Weaverhall."

B'lee felt devastated. He certainly hadn't meant to make D'min feel bad. He folded up the letter quickly and put it to one side. "Did your family never visit you?" he asked.

"My father landed a few times after Threadfall and asked after me. I got to see him a couple of times then. And once he came for a gather and we spent the whole day together. He even gave me a mark to spend. That was great." He had a soft smile on his face as he reminisced.

B'lee relaxed. He had thought for a moment that he had stumbled on a tragedy, but it was merely the difference between Weyr and Hold ways. Holdfolk rarely travelled, so they wrote letters. Weyrfolk visited, so they didn't need letters.

"If we're ever separated and can't visit, I'll send you letters," he promised, solemnly.

"Really?" D'min's face lit up. "I'd love to get a letter one day. It's almost enough to make me want to transfer to another Weyr."

"Is that possible?" asked B'lee, a tendril of unease creeping into this heart at the thought of D'min moving away. "I thought that we were here for life."

"Well, it's not common. Except for queen riders. They do tend to be moved around so as to minimise the in-breeding. Not that I've ever seen a deformed dragon, but still ... Anyway, occasionally a rider can request to transfer. It's usually a blue or green rider, when they've developed a long-term pairing with someone from another weyr. Occasionally a bronze rider if he flies another Weyr's queen."

"I've never heard of it before, except for the queens, as you say."

"Well, no one talks much about blues and greens, do they? We're not exactly important in the great scheme of things. We never get a mention in the Ballads, do we? They all talk about golds and bronzes - have you noticed that? Even the browns are ignored. Anyone would think that the bronzes fight off Thread all by themselves."

He sounded a little bitter, but B'lee could understand. He, too, had noticed that, apart from one or two Teaching Ballads, all the songs were about the largest dragons. Not a single one mentioned blues or greens, except in passing. Not a single blue or green dragon was named, and neither were any of their riders. "Maybe we'll have to find something heroic to do so that we can have a ballad of our very own," he said, jokingly, only to see D'min perk up immediately.

"Of course! We'll do something terrifically dangerous and difficult and do it brilliantly and then Master Tirone will write us a ballad -"

"Hoy there! If there's any ballad to be written, I'll do it myself, lad."

"Even better! _The Ballad of D'min and B'lee_ , written by B'lee himself."

"Idiot. It'll be _The Ballad of Margroth and Aurieth_."

"A tale of undying love and devotion," snickered D'min.

B'lee pushed him off the bed, then hauled him up again, still laughing. "In your dreams, mate. In your dreams."

* * *

The last weeks of summer were spent on ground drill, learning the various flying formations used by each Weyr and wing. It was tricky work, and F'neldril took several of their classes himself. He promised that there would many more hours of drill once they were allowed to fly, but that the more they learned now, the easier it would be later on. Each formation had different strengths and weaknesses, and no one method was suitable for all Falls. For hours on end they marched and turned and re-formed into shape after shape until B'lee swore he was walking patterns in his sleep.

At least once each sevenday they spent several hours filling sacks with chunks of firestone. Hundreds of sacks were needed for each Threadfall, and the weyrlings soon learned the most economical and least-tiring ways of filling them so as to save their aching backs. By the end of the day, the sulphurous smell pervaded all their clothes, and the only good thing that one could say about it was that it wasn't quite as bad as the smell of burnt firestone after Threadfall.

The friendships among the weyrlings had settled now. B'lee found himself spending most of his time with S'gan and D'min. R'vil had found D'min's manner a little abrasive, and instead had made friends with another blue rider. D'min had laughed, and explained that blue riders had a reputation for being a little prim.

"I'm not prim!" exclaimed B'lee.

D'min laughed even more and hugged B'lee tightly. "No, of course you're not. You're the good sort of blue. A B'lee blue." He giggled over the alliteration.

"Idiot.

"But you love me anyway."

It was a throwaway line, one that neither took too seriously, so B'lee smiled and said, "Of course. Who else makes me laugh like you do?"

* * *

The Harvest Gather, the biggest gather of the season, was held at Fort Hold a few days later, on the first day of the tenth month. B'lee had performed at several gathers in previous Turns while at the Harperhall, and he was dismayed to learn that none of the weyrlings would be allowed to attend. Of course, the Hold was a full day's ride down the mountain on runnerbeast from the Weyr, and their dragons couldn’t fly there yet, so he accepted that it would have been difficult to make the journey, but he'd been looking forward to seeing his old friends, though, and felt the disappointment acutely. For the first time, he almost resented being uprooted from his former life and deposited in a Weyr, where things were so different. 

_You are angry_ , rumbled Margroth. B'lee could feel the dragon's concern, and hastened to reassure him. 

_Not with you, dearest_ , he said. _I just wanted to go back to the Harperhall and see my old friends, and I'm not allowed to_. 

_You have friends here_. 

B'lee gave a small nod. _I know. But I miss my other friends._

Since there was no Threadfall that day, it was declared a holiday at the Weyr, and D'min began making plans. His current lover, a blue rider in 4 Wing, was on ferry duty for the gather, which made him unavailable for D'min's entertainment, a fact that had made him distinctly unhappy even though S'been had promised to bring him a present from Fort Hold. 

"We'll just have to think of something else to do," said B'lee. "At least the weather's nice. We could take a picnic and climb up to the fireheights. We'd be able to see all the dragons wheeling in over the Hold." 

D'min made a face. "Too much effort." 

"Well, think of something else, then." 

"We could find a nice quiet chamber in the back corridors, and you can play your gitar for me." 

"And what will you be doing while I'm playing gitar?" asked B'lee suspiciously. 

D'min gave a wicked smile. "Anything you want. Preferably something that involves my hands roaming all over your body." 

B'lee tried to be angry, but it was difficult when D'min was smiling at him in just that way. "And what would S'been say?" 

"Oh, he'd want to know all the details. He's a kinky bugger, you know. Must be why I like him so much." 

B'lee gave a delicate shudder. He always felt acutely uncomfortable whenever D'min talked about his lovers. It still felt vaguely wrong to B'lee, for a man to love another man. Although love was probably too strong a word - in fact, now he thought of it, he'd never heard D'min use that term in relation to any of the men he lay with. Perhaps it was just sexual curiosity. But did that make it better or worse? 

"I think we need a better plan," he said, attempting to divert D'min's thoughts. 

"Can't think of any." 

"We could visit Tamina." B'lee had taken a liking to D'min's mother, and often went to see her on rest days. 

"She'll be at the gather, I think. She said she was after some more yarns." 

"Oh, of course." 

D'min sighed. "I guess the fireheights would be all right. It's a nice day for it, anyway, and I'll be able to see when S'been gets back." 

B'lee nodded happily and wandered across to the kitchen where he managed to charm one of the girls into letting him have a couple of meatrolls and some spicy fruit buns, as well as a flask of watered wine with redberry juice, which was the closest that any of the weyrlings managed to get to proper wine. 

They climbed the hundreds of stairs that led to the fireheights, stopping several times to get their breath back. 

"I can't wait until we can fly our dragons," puffed D'min. "It's unnatural, having to climb all these steps. 

B'lee laughed. "There's not a single holder who'd agree with you. To most people on Pern it's the dragons that are unnatural." 

"Well, I feel sorry for them then. This is far too much effort. I told you that." 

"You can have a nice rest at the top." 

"I'll need it." 

They started off again, and managed to reach the rim without bursting a lung. 

The view from the heights, when they got there, was magnificent. Although to the north the view was partially obscured by the Star Stones and the Tooth Crag, they could see all around Fort Weyr. To the west and south there was the mountain range that ran down the whole of the Boll peninsula, while to the east the ground sloped down to the coast. Far away, they could indeed see small dark specks in the air - dragons wheeling above the crag that housed Fort Hold. 

Though the sun was bright, the wind up on the heights was fierce, and B'lee wished he'd brought a jacket. He wrapped his arms around his chest, wondering if this had been such a good idea. 

"Here, sit down," D'min told him. "The rocks are warm, and you'll be out of the wind." He was already rummaging in the carry-sack for food. 

B'lee sat down, noting that D'min was right. Well, that was hardly surprising - the boy had grown up here, after all, and had probably been up here hundreds of times. B'lee realised, belatedly, that what had seemed like an adventure to him was probably commonplace to D'min. 

"Sorry," he said. 

"What for?" 

"Dragging you up here. You must have come up here plenty of times before." 

D'min cocked his head to one side. "Not that many," he said. "And, besides, it's your first time, so that makes it different." He smiled and handed B'lee a meatroll. 

They spent the afternoon lying on the sun-warmed rock while they talked about everything and nothing. Food and drink were soon consumed, and B'lee was getting hungry again when D'min spotted the first dragons approaching. 

"Looks like the first lot are coming back," he announced, gesturing to the pair of dragons that were slowly spiralling down from above the Tooth Crag. "We'd better start heading back if we want to make it to the dining hall." 

They packed up the debris quickly and headed back down the treacherous stairs. It certainly didn't take as long as climb up did, but B'lee knees were protesting when they finally got to the corridor that led to the main lower caverns. 

D'min spotted S'been as they entered the dining hall, and after giving B'lee a swift, half-apologetic glance, he ran off towards his lover, leaving B'lee holding the bag of empty flasks. 

B'lee stifled the odd, wistful feeling in his chest as D'min moved away from him, and joined his classmates at the weyrling table. 

* * * 

Harvest passed, and the weather grew cooler. The weyrlings were given a respite from ground drill and conscripted to help unload the tithing trains that rolled in from Fort Weyr's dependent Holds. B'lee was astonished at the sheer volume of material that was arriving - grains and fruits and fat herdbeasts, wood and blackrock and metals, hides and slates and parchment. He was even more astonished to learn that this was less than half of what was delivered throughout the year. 

"We get fleeces, fabrics and yarns in spring, and wines towards summer," D'min told him. "Fish is tithed all year around - that has to come a-dragonback unless it's salted. Same goes for vegetables and soft fruits." 

"So much ..." 

"Not enough," pronounced D'min. "There are so many of us to feed, especially the dragons. We'll still have to be careful we don't lose anything to tunnel snakes." 

"I can see that." B'lee tried to suppress a shudder at the thought of the long-bodied, short-legged snakes that crept and slithered through the darkest recesses of the storage caverns and tunnels, eating grains and meats and any small creatures couldn't move fast enough to escape their claws. The weyrlings had been recruited to help the drudges clean out the storage caverns in readiness for the new season's tithes. The remnants of past battles had been plentiful and nauseating, and B'lee hated to think how bad things might get if the tunnel snakes were allowed to roam unchecked. 

* * * 

It was dark before dinner, now, and the weyrlings kept as far inside the cavern as they could to avoid the cold draughts that blew in from the Weyr bowl. Their dragons made wonderful windbreaks, and never seemed to mind their riders snuggling up on the coldest nights. The heat that perfused the Weyr through some magic of the ancients kept them from freezing, of course, but nothing could be done about the wind. 

They played a lot of cards, and B'lee became quite good at it, largely because he was able to control his expression a little more than the younger boys. Sometimes they played for marks, but not often, since most of them had very little money, and there was no way of earning more until they were able to fly _between_ and run errands for Holders. Instead, they played for points, or for desserts, or for possessions. 

D'min was still sneaking out of the barracks every couple of nights to meet some man or other. He had moved on from S'been before the end of summer, seeing a couple of green riders during the autumn (they didn't last long) and then D'von, another blue rider. He was almost always back in his bunk by the time they had to get up, and the few occasions when he'd been late he'd managed to give the other weyrlings a convincing tale of bathing early, or going down to see to Aurieth. 

Inevitably, though, his nocturnal venturings became so commonplace that he got careless, and he left before they were all asleep, or returned just in time for dragon care or lessons. By the end of the eleventh month most of the weyrlings knew he was sneaking out, so it was hardly surprising when the Weyrlingmaster called him aside one afternoon for a private word. 

D'min emerged from that absolutely fuming, and S'gan and B'lee hurried to intercept him and drag him off to a deserted chamber in a back corridor before he could land himself in even more trouble. 

"He told me I'm not allowed out of the barracks!" 

"Well, you're not. He told us that on the first day," answered S'gan uncompromisingly. 

"But I have to see D'von!" 

"No, you don't." 

"I do!" 

"D'min, listen. I know you think the world revolves around you and you alone, but the first priority of this Weyr is to fight Thread. If your night-time games are interfering with that, then the Weyrlingmaster has the right to discipline you." 

"But I'm not-" 

"D'min!" B'lee interrupted. "You know as well as I do that D'von has been looking exhausted the last couple of weeks. I don't know what you're doing to him - I don't want to know - but you're obviously making him tired, and he's been having difficulty concentrating. If he gets Threadscored - or if Tisanth gets scored - it will be your fault." 

D'min looked appalled. "I'd never risk a dragon!" 

S'gan cuffed him on the ear. "D'min, do you hear what I'm saying? Every time you sneak into D'von's bed at midnight, you're putting him and Tisanth at risk. It's not that we want to stop you seeing him, but you have to realise that you can't keep sneaking out at night." 

"Well, I can hardly go to his weyr during the day, can I?" 

S'gan sighed. "Can't you make some arrangement for free days? It's not the sex we're worried about, it's the sleep." 

D'min scuffed his boot along the sand. "That's what F'neldril said." 

"And you didn't believe him?" 

"I was angry." 

"So don't be angry. No one thinks clearly when they're angry." 

"Easier said than done." 

"Here, I'll help." S'gan started to rub a hand over D'min's back, and smiled as his friend started to relax a little. 

"That's good. Don't stop." 

"D'min, you are the most touch-hungry person I've ever met in my life." 

"I was deprived as a nurseling." 

"Obviously. Here, B'lee, give me a hand." 

B'lee approached them, a little tentatively, but there was nothing threatening in the way that D'min was sitting with his eyes closed, and he reached out a hand to D'min's back, rubbing small circles over the shoulder blades as S'gan moved to knead the knots out of D'min's neck. D'min's skin was warm, even through his tunic, and he smelled vaguely of the sweetsand they used to bathe. 

"Mmm," D'min sighed as S'gan and B'lee continued to rub his back. "I don't suppose I could talk you two into a threesome?" 

"Sorry, friend, you're not my type. I like them big and burly." 

"And I like girls," added B'lee quickly, rather worried that D'min might look at him, and he wasn't sure how his insides would react to that. 

"Spoilsports," muttered D'min, but without rancour. He allowed S'gan to soothe away the tension in his shoulders for a while longer, then pulled away, saying, "Ah well, let's get back to the barracks. It’s bloody stifling in here." 

B'lee reached down and gave D'min a hand up, not at all surprised when D'min took the opportunity to give him a hug. "Thanks," he whispered into B'lee's ear, causing him to shiver. 

* * * 

By the time they were half a Turn old, just before the Winter Solstice, the dragonets could be considered to be really flying rather than hopping with intent. Almost all of them had managed to fly out of the Weyr bowl by that stage and were learning how to hunt wherry and small herdbeasts for themselves in the fenced-off feeding ground in the bowl. They weren't permitted to carry any additional weight - that wouldn't happen until they were much stronger - and that meant that the weyrlings were still accommodated in the barracks. 

B'lee was waiting for Margroth to return from feeding one foggy morning when he felt a flare of distress and immediately turned in the direction of the feeding ground, even though the thickness of the fog coming off the lake meant that he couldn't see him clearly. 

_What happened?_ he asked anxiously. 

_Noth went for the same wherry that I wanted and scratched me._

_Are you all right?_

_It hurts._

_Come back here, then, and I'll have a look at it._

D'min had obviously realised that something was wrong and had asked his own dragon for information. "Aurieth says it doesn't look too bad," he told B'lee. "Long but shallow." 

Margroth appeared through the fog and glided down to land a few metres away from them. B'lee could see the wound on his right leg, where the green ichor was oozing out already. 

"Hmm, I'll go and get some redwort," said D'min, and strode off towards the Healer's rooms. 

B'lee took Margroth down to the caldera lake and made sure that the wound was cleaned of grime from Noth's claws. When D'min returned, they applied the redwort liberally over the wound. 

_That stings!_ complained Margroth. 

"Sorry, love, but you have to have this put on to stop it getting infected. You don't want a horrible thick twisted scar, do you?" 

_No. But I don’t want this stinging either._

"It will fade in a few minutes, then we can go and lie down again." 

_I'm still hungry. Noth made me drop the wherry._

"I'll see if Aurieth might be able to get you something to eat then." B'lee turned to D'min, but his friend's eyes were already glazed as he conversed with his own dragon. A moment later D'min smiled and said, "Aurieth is bringing Margroth a lovely fat wherry to replace the one he lost to Noth." 

Aurieth appeared a few moments later and placed a plump wherry carcass close to Margroth's snout. 

"There," said D'min. "Don't say we're not nice to you." 

_This is tast_ y, said Margroth, as he disposed of the wherry in a few bites. _Crunchy, too._

_I hope you thanked Aurieth_ , cautioned B'lee. 

_I did. She is thoughtful, for a green._

B'lee smiled. Margroth viewed all greens, Aurieth especially, as easy on the eye but slightly dim-witted, and was always surprised when they did something right. He turned to D'min, and said, "Margroth said thank you, and that Aurieth is thoughtful." 

"You're welcome. I'm sure you'd do the same for us." 

Given that it was a feeding day, they checked the dragons' skin and applied oil to the few dry patches that they found. The rate of growth was slowing down a little, but they still required frequent inspections and oiling to prevent skin damage, and R'lan still punished them for any flaky patches he found. 

D'min linked his arm through B'lee's as they walked back towards the barracks. B'lee was used to this sort of thing now and accepted that D'min was simply very affectionate and demonstrative (much like his dragon). He rarely protested unless D'min tried to take it any further, which happened about once a month, and then he firmly repeated that he liked girls and asked D'min to remove his hand from whatever part of B'lee it was caressing at the time. D'min never seemed to mind, though he pouted rather fetchingly once or twice. 

* * * 

One aspect of their training that B'lee hadn't anticipated was fire-crew drill. He'd been too young for it in the Hold, and no one trusted Harperhall apprentices with anything more dangerous than wood glue, but here all the weyrlings - even the ones whose voices hadn't yet broken - were expected to learn how to use a flamethrower safely, effectively and efficiently. "And in that order," cautioned R'lan. B'lee supposed it made sense - in another year or so they would all be out in the fighting wings (except the very youngest, who might be kept back another year), and they would have to be confident in their use and direction of flame. 

It was fascinating to see the flame being projected from the nozzle. They were told never to aim the nozzle at anyone - ever - and to keep their fingers away from the trigger until they were about to flame Thread or errant greenery. Even so, R'lan conducted the lesson on the lakeshore and recruited several older riders to keep a sharp eye on the weyrlings. His caution was justified, sadly, when young H'rellan managed to set D'min's jacket on fire. Two burly riders picked D'min up and dumped him in the water before the flames had a chance to burn through the thick leather. H'rellan found himself fronting the Weyrleader that evening, and had to spend the next five free days cleaning out the fireheights. 

D'min wasn't hurt, but he was angrier than B'lee had ever seen in his life. He fumed and swore he'd get revenge, until S'gan pointed out that D'min had never liked that particular jacket anyway, and now he had a perfectly legitimate excuse to get a new one from Marta, the Assistant Headwoman who saw to the weyrling's needs. That cheered D'min up immensely, and he immediately began formulating plans to get the best, thickest and softest jacket possible out of the store. 

"I can tell her it's my birthday next week, too." 

"Is it?" 

"On the 15th. I'll be 17." 

B'lee shook his head. "So old," he chided, sadly. 

"Not as old as you, greylocks." 

B'lee laughed. "There's not a grey hair on my head - and if there is, you put it there." 

In spite of the bantering, B'lee remembered D'min's remark about his birthday, and wondered if he ought to get him a small present. There were no gathers at this season, though, and it was too late to make him anything - even if he had the raw materials, which he hadn't. 

He settled for giving D'min a comradely thump on the shoulder and made sure that he had an extra-large helping of pudding, which was doubly appreciated, since it was redberry crumble, one of D'min's favourites. 


	5. First Flight

_Spring, 35th Turn of the Present Pass_

The dragons were four days shy of their first birthday when they made their first official flight. They had been flying on their own for a while, but so far they hadn't been allowed to carry their riders, which had frustrated them all. Now, however, they had been fitted for riding straps and were ready for their first accompanied flight.

There was an aura of excitement that morning as the weyrlings got up and dressed themselves for the day's lessons. The dragons, who were now feeding every third day or so, waddled out of the barracks and into the bowl, spacing themselves out so that they had room to spread their wings. Then came the moment they'd been waiting for. At F'neldril's nod, the weyrlings climbed up and attached the riding straps around their dragons' necks, making sure that the straps were fitted snugly, but not tight enough to cause discomfort. Then they seated themselves between the neck ridges and attached the short tethering straps to the belts around their waists. They weren't wearing wherhide - the days were warm and there was no question of going between yet - and B'lee could feel Margroth's heat through the thin fabric of his trousers.

F'neldril had them take off, one at a time, and fly to the landing area on the western rim. D'min was one of the first, and B'lee had to admire how graceful Aurieth was as she took off and soared up into the sky. He could see how gently she landed, too, with a gentle flourish of her wings.

When it came to Margroth's turn, B'lee was nervous. What if he did something wrong? What if he fell off?

 _I will not let you fall,_ came Margroth's reply.

 _I know. I'm not worried about you, I'm worried about me._

 _Don't worry. Flying is easy._ Margroth leapt up from his powerful back legs, extended his wings and with a whoosh they were airborne.

It was exhilarating, thought B'lee, as they rose higher above the bowl with every downstroke. He loved the sensation of being carried by his dragon into the air, over the heads of everyone stuck on the ground. The wind whistled past his face and made his eyes water, and he realised why riders in the wings were issued goggles.

Margroth banked, and he was suddenly glad of the riding straps that he'd him securely to the dragon's neck - it would have been embarrassing, not to say dangerous, to fall off from this height. But he was safe and they were flying at last, and they reached the landing area beside the Star Stones far too soon. Margroth landed beside Aurieth with a neat flourish of wings and settled on his haunches.

 _Thank you, Margroth,_ said B'lee, as soon as his dragon's wings were furled.

 _That was fun. Can we do it again?_

 _In a little while._

"Hey, B'lee, you made it!" D'min called out.

"Of course. Margroth had no difficulties at all."

"Nor did Aurieth. I swear we could have been flying them months ago."

At that moment bronze Breth joined them, but tried to land too close to the edge and scrabbled for a purchase. B'lee snickered. "Well, _we_ might have been able to, but we had to wait for the slower members of the clutch."

They shared an unholy giggle at the expense of the poor bronze (whose rider, H'rellan, was the youngest in the class and not very well-coordinated himself), and waited until they could make the return flight.

It wasn't long before the whole class was up on the ridge, which was flattened by generations of dragon landings and accommodated them all with no crowding. Once they were all up there, F'neldril supervised them doing short flights around the Weyr, banking left them right and then landing back in the bowl. They were only allowed one short flight, so as not to strain the dragons' musculature, but each of them made the most of it. The greens and blues were clearly more graceful, while the browns and bronzes seemed to be a little heavy in their landings.

B'lee watched all the dragons more carefully this time, and came to the conclusion that the greens were definitely the most adept at flying. Aurieth, of course, was the most graceful of the greens - she seemed more coordinated, more in control of herself, and more confident. How much of that was her, and how much was D'min, B'lee had no idea, but it did make her easy to watch and admire.

 _Am I not graceful, too?_ Asked Margroth, a little plaintively, and B'lee immediately felt guilty for admiring any other dragon.

 _You're very graceful, love. And you're stronger than Aurieth._

 _I am strong for a blue._

 _You are._ It was true: Margroth was a little larger than most blues, though clearly not as large as a brown. More than that, though, he wasn't as bulky as a brown. He had clean, elegant lines and flew most economically, not wasting wing strokes, which F'neldril had noted with approval, saying that this would be useful in a long flight. His hide had deepened to an iridescent blue, with hints of purple and green, and never a dry or flaky patch to be seen, since B'lee inspected him every day. B'lee thought that he was simply the most perfect dragon ever created, and Margroth was happy with that.

The flying class ended as soon as the last dragon had returned to the bowl, and the riders returned to the barracks a little weary but very happy. B'lee and D'min, and all other green and blue riders, were still rather smug over the fact that their dragons were definitely more mature and graceful than the larger bronzes and browns. They had suffered some jibes from the bronze and brown riders in the past Turn over the merits of size and strength, and it was a guilty pleasure to be able to prove that size wasn't everything when it came to dragons.

They were still buzzing with the headiness of the flight the next morning, when they heard the high-pitched whining sound that heralded clutching. Holth, who had been flown by Clinnith just before the Spring Equinox, had gone to the Hatching Ground.

D'min was almost bouncing up and down on his bunk when he heard the dragons. "Do you hear that?" he asked B'lee. "It means we'll be out of here soon."

"Are you so sure? The eastern cavern's still empty - they could fit another class in there."

"Yes, but they don't like to mix classes if they can avoid it. They'll have us up in weyrs before the hatching, just you see!"

There was no immediate change to their classes, though, and B'lee wondered if D'min could have been mistaken. They flew the next day to the south ridge, without any accidents, and two days after that they celebrated the dragons' first Turn with a flight over the top of the weyr under the watchful eye of Leri, the Weyrwoman. She seemed pleased with them, and authorised an issue of wine at their evening meal.

Then D'min was proved right. The very next day, they started to practise ledge landings, using one of the highest weyrs to allow the dragons room to manoeuvre should they fail to get a purchase. The ledges were deceptively small for a dragon, and it took some practise to be able to land with the right amount of momentum to be able to move forward and furl the wings at the same time. In spite of repeated demonstrations by F'neldril's Mnanth and R'lan's Belleth, more than one dragon fell back and had to extend his wings in a hurry to prevent them falling to the bowl.

B'lee winced as Breth fell off the ledge, spread his wings in panic and snapped the left distal spar bone of the wing against the rock. The dragon howled and landed back in the bowl with a clumsy thud that had both B'lee and D'min groaning in sympathy. F'neldril examined the wingtip and told H'rellan to take him back to the barracks for Moreta to see. The two of them walked back dejectedly, H'rellan almost in tears at the injury to his beloved bronze dragon.

Aurieth, of course, landed perfectly on the first attempt, and B'lee was uncharitable enough to wonder if she'd had some practise delivering D'min up to whatever rider was his interest of the moment.

 _No, she says this is her first weyr landing,_ corrected Margroth.

 _Shards! You didn't tell her what I was thinking, did you?_

 _No, I told her she did it as well as Mnanth._

Both Aurieth and D'min were visibly preening as they returned to the bowl, and B'lee hoped that he wouldn't disgrace himself when it was his turn.

He needn't have worried. Margroth landed well onto the ledge - perhaps not quite as elegantly as Aurieth, but safely, and much more smoothly than most of the others. He furled his wings and took a few steps into the cavern. It was a good size for a large blue or small brown dragon, and he rumbled his approval as he turned around and went back out to the ledge. He took off with a mighty leap, and coasted down to the bowl with barely a twitch of his wings. He landed so smoothly that there was hardly a mote of dust raised from the ground.

 _Show off,_ muttered B'lee, but with a smile.

 _Aurieth is not the only one who can fly well,_ answered Margroth, smugly.

B'lee glanced at D'min, and was pleased to see an admiring look on his friend's face as he watched the blue dragon land.

Margroth gave a happy rumble, and B'lee asked, _So what did she say to you?_

 _She said that I fly well and she would not be ashamed to be seen with me._

 _The little minx!_

 _She is young and foolish._

 _She's the same age as you are, and hardly foolish._

 _Pre-occupied with unimportant things, then_ , conceded Margroth.

 _That I'll grant you_.

They waited out the rest of the class somewhat impatiently, and returned to the barracks in high spirits. B'lee looked around at the cavern that had been his home for the last Turn and thought _Not long now!_ He couldn't wait to leave. It wasn’t that he didn't get on with his class, but most of them were Turns younger than he was, and were still playing boys' games. He wanted some time to himself.

D'min, too, was humming with suppressed excitement. He couldn't wait to get out of the barracks either, but for slightly different reasons. After being strictly forbidden to leave the barracks after glow-dim, he had found it difficult to arrange his liaisons with various riders to fit in with both his classes and their schedules. He had complained bitterly and repeatedly in low tones to S'gan and B'lee about his frustrations, but neither of them were sympathetic - S'gan because he had managed to work out his own liaisons without getting anyone into trouble in the first place, and B'lee because he wasn't having any success with the Weyr girls and didn't see why D'min should be having all the fun.

The next day the dragons fed and bathed, and they had cavern-based lessons in the afternoon. The day after that they practised ledge landings all around the Weyr until R'lan was happy that they could all land safely at any ledge.

Then came the news they had all been waiting for. They were going to move out of the barracks and into their very own weyrs in time for the cavern to be cleared out for the new Candidates. Breth was held back, of course, as he was not permitted to fly at all until his wing had healed, but since H'rellan was the youngest rider anyway, it wasn't too bad an outcome for him anyway. He would have the opportunity to be the most advanced instead of the most backward, and S'gan and D'min decided between them that it would do wonders for his self-esteem. B'lee couldn’t help smiling at the sight of two boys of 16 and 17 seriously debating the welfare of a 14-year-old, as if they were old Uncles by the fire.

To B'lee's delight, he, D'min and S'gan were allocated three of a group of four adjacent weyrs on the south-eastern aspect of the bowl. They were high up and quite isolated, and not as efficiently warmed as the lower weyrs, but to young men already sick and tired of the close confines and supervision of the weyrling barracks, the isolation was doubly attractive and more than made up for the effort that would be required to climb up to them. The weyrs were large enough that all three dragons could squeeze into one (though that wouldn't always be the case, D'min pointed out), and there was a narrow corridor linking their compartments and a couple of others at the rear and leading to a rather precarious ladder shaft that B'lee hoped he wouldn't have to use very often. It was at least a dragon-length down to the nearest main corridor, and then there were about two hundred steps that took them down in stages to the lower caverns. It was no wonder they put the youngest and healthiest riders up in the heights.

The furniture was basic but comfortable. There was a cot with sleeping furs (each cot wide enough for two, B'lee noted), a small table, a couple of chairs and a chest for clothes and personal belongings. The walls had some tapestries, a little faded and in need of a good shaking out, but otherwise serviceable, and a thick curtain that separated the dragon's weyr from the rider's sleeping chamber. It was enough for the time being, and B'lee thought that with a little effort and some judicious bartering he could make the human part of the weyr very homely and comfortable.

B'lee didn't even mind the prospect of the weyrs being cold in winter. He'd experienced worse at High Reaches, when Cromcoal and timber for burning had proved scarce some years. They'd need thick sleeping furs, of course, and he'd beg his mother for a fisherman's jersey (or knit one himself) but he had every confidence that he'd be more comfortable up here than down in the barracks.

D'min was a little more critical of the fittings, saying that there was much better furniture around if you knew where to look, but he, too, was happy with the weyrs and happy to be with his friends.

"I really thought they'd put me in one of the lower weyrs to keep an eye on me," he confessed. "Nesso was threatening to put me next to the queens' weyrs." He shuddered. "I do not want to be anywhere close to gold or bronze riders. Here," he gestured, expansively, "here is great. We're just far enough away that we can make some noise and not get into trouble, and those stairs will keep Tamina away."

"You know she'll find a way."

"Yeah, probably, but she'll have to climb about fifty thousand stairs, or else beg a ride from a dragon, and I know she doesn't like flying. So we're pretty safe."

"Let's hope you're right."

"You'll see." He smiled. "Now, the first thing we need to do is visit Nesso - or, better, Marta, and get some more sleeping furs and tapestries. These ones are all very well, but we'll need something a bit more colourful if we're going to invite our friends here."

"Are we going to invite friends?"

"Of course we are. As soon as we've redecorated, we're going to have B'ret and F'ril up here so that I can win back those marks they took off me a couple of sevendays ago."

S'gan and B'lee looked at each other, half-amused and half-horrified. D'min hadn't got any better at dragon poker, but still insisted on playing. Frankly, B'lee was surprised that he had any marks left at all.

* * *

It felt strange to have a room all to himself. B'lee, like most young people, had never had much privacy in his life: he'd shared a bed with his brothers at High Reaches; and had lived in apprentice dormitories at the Harperhall before coming to the Weyr. A year in the Weyrling Barracks hadn't seemed all that different from the dormitories, but this ... this was going to take some getting used to.

He was very glad that his friends D'min and S'gan were close by. It wasn't that he was scared, precisely, but to be so far away from everyone was a little disconcerting. What if he fell ill? What if he were injured? What if Margroth were injured and couldn't carry him down to the bowl? At least he was lucky that he was in Fort Weyr, which had stairs connecting the upper weyrs to the lower caverns, through access tunnels carved by the ancients. D'min had told him that none of the other Weyrs had that, and for them the only way up to a dragon's weyr was on dragonback.

On the positive side, though, privacy had its advantages, and each of the weyrlings reacted to it in different ways.

B'lee's first action was to get out his gitar and set it on the table for easy access. He loved to play, but had had little opportunity in the past Turn - there was always someone trying to sleep in the barracks, so noise was discouraged, and he'd been too tired to play in the main hall in the evenings with the harpers. The gitar had perforce lain almost untouched for many months. Now, in his weyr, he would be able to strum and sing to himself softly at any time without disturbing anyone, and could even do the finger exercises that were so important but which had caused much disruption and unpleasantness in the barracks. He also planned to beg some time at Harper Willan's sandtable in order to work on a couple of tunes that had been running around in his head for the last couple of months.

S'gan decided that he was going to set himself up with goods for barter. He had shown a marked aptitude for leatherwork during their training, and the riding straps he had made for Lath were already the envy of the Weyrling Barracks. B'lee, whose straps had barely passed R'lan's inspection, had agreed to trade a set of riding straps for a knitted blanket S'gan wanted - he'd seen one used to wrap an old uncle on a visit to Ruatha once, and he'd wanted one ever since. Since B'lee had learned to knit as a child at High Reaches Hold, and knew how to do the distinctive High Reaches "fisherman's rib" pattern, he was happy to put his skills to good use. He had already completed several squares before they left the barracks, using scraps of wool begged from the weaving room, and promised to finish the blanket before the solstice.

As for D'min ... well, B'lee told himself that he should have expected it. D'min had chafed under the restrictions of the Weyrling Barracks, especially after F'neldril's direct order not to leave during the night, and now that he had his own weyr it was inevitable that he would start bringing his bed-partners there. B'lee told himself that it was none of his business, but he did wish that D'min wasn't quite so loud. Though he did sound as if he thoroughly enjoyed whatever he was doing.

B'lee sighed. At least D'min was getting some action. In spite of his newly-elevated status, B'lee was still having difficulty in attracting any serious attention from the girls in the Weyr. They laughed and joked with him, and several had indulged him with a kiss in the shadows, or a dance at a gather, but so far only a couple of them had given any indication that they would welcome any further advances, and the only time he'd ventured to take matters into his own hands the girl had wriggled out of his arms with a high-pitched giggle and run away. It had not been very encouraging. He'd had a few pleasant tumbles with Surina, one of the more notorious lower caverns girls, but she wasn't his type. He hadn't really seen any girl at the weyr who was his type - though if pressed, he wasn't sure he knew what his type was. He just knew that he'd know it if he saw it.

To make matters worse, he had had to make it quite clear to several green and blue riders that he wasn't interested in exploring homosexual activities. It appeared that his looks and his voice made him very attractive to them, and he'd been invited to more than one weyr for the evening, only to find himself being regarded as Margroth looked as a plump herdbeast. Eventually he got to the stage of vetting all social invitations through D'min, who, of course, knew the proclivities of every rider in the Weyr. D'min laughed and told him that he really ought to enlarge his experience, but he never hesitated to tell B'lee the proper orientation of each rider, as well as whether or not he was safe to be with. B'lee was grateful for the advice and never failed to thank him, especially when it served to avert a potentially disastrous encounter.

* * *

The Hatching of Holth's latest clutch took place two days after the Summer Solstice, and the weyrlings were on hand to help prepare the Candidates and make sure that they all ate afterwards. Thread fell that day, almost directly over the Weyr, and B'lee learned one of the most important reasons why Candidates were brought in several days prior to the Hatching - if they'd been left until the day itself, there wouldn't have been any Candidates for the eggs, since you couldn't expect dragons to drop into the bowl during Threadfall.

As it was, all but one hatched and impressed. The failure was a small egg, oddly mottled, and D'min explained that it happened sometimes, especially as a queen got older. Healer Berchar took the egg in order to examine the contents, and told the Weyrleader later that the dragonet had apparently died a few Sevendays before the Hatching, possibly even before clutching. How the news got from the weyrleader to D'min, B'lee never did find out, but it was certainly D'min who told him. He felt sad for the lost dragonet, but accepted that some young of every species failed to develop.

It had been a little strange to watch the Impression as a spectator. Most of the candidates this time were from the Weyr - either Weyrbred or remaining from Search the previous Turn. B'lee recognised Goneril, one of the older weyrbrats, impressing a brown, and was happy for him. Most of the others he knew vaguely bu sight but couldn't put a name to.

There was one distinct advantage to the unlucky juxtaposition of Threadfall and Hatching - the usual Hatching treats (sweet cakes and carafes of wine) were shared among fewer people, so even the weyrlings got half a goblet of wine and a cake each. As usual, D'min managed to acquire an extra wineskin (only half-full, but better than nothing) and shared it with B'lee and S'gan up in their weyrs. They relaxed against the sleeping furs in S'gan's weyr and B'lee played his gitar for them, revelling in the knowledge that no one would disturb them.

"You really have a lovely voice," D'min said, as B'lee finished another song.

"Thank you."

"Sing me another. A sad song."

"You want a sad song?"

"A song of lost love and bitter regret," said D'min, cradling the goblet in his hands, his eyes fixed on the floor.

B'lee shrugged and sang the only song he knew that met D'min's requirements - a ballad about a beautiful but proud Holder's daughter who spurned the advances of a young man, only to learn later that he had been lost to Thread. It was a haunting tune, in a minor key, and as he finished, he saw tears running down D'min's cheeks. He wondered if they were due solely to the song, or whether there was something else on D'min's mind. He fished out a handkerchief and sat down on the bed, placing an arm around his friend's shoulders and gently wiping the tears away.

"Are you all right?" he asked in a low voice, not wanting to wake S'gan, who had fallen asleep.

D'min nodded briskly, but refused to meet his gaze. "I’ll be fine," he said. "Thank you for the song. It was beautiful." He got up and grabbed the empty wineskin. "I think we'd better get back to our own weyrs."

B'lee followed him out, still puzzled by D'min's reaction.


	6. Between

_Summer, 35th Turn of the Present Pass_

The dragons who had clutched in 33, a Turn ahead of Aurieth and Margroth, were integrated into the fighting wings just after the Summer Solstice, and to everyone's delight, B'lee's class became the senior weyrlings. They were joined by two dragons and their riders who had been held back from the previous class - K'teen, rider of brown Ponath, who was considered too young, and M'rellet, rider of blue Tiketh, also very young and who had been injured during training and was still not fully recovered. Neither of them was happy about their reversion, but they both accepted their fate with a relatively good grace, and were even generous enough to help the more junior riders avoid easy mistakes.

Lessons were now almost exclusively outdoors, rain and Thread permitting. From the moment they moved up to the weyrs the weyrlings were allowed to fly their dragons every day, except when Threadfall was due close to the Weyr, but all their flights were supervised and to specified locations. R'lan had them fly to various points above the Weyr and then made them fix the views in their minds, explaining that this was in preparation for going _between_ later on. There were fixed points at each of the weyrs that were reserved for transferring in from between, and riders were advised to stay clear of them at other times to prevent accidents. For Fort, they learned to imagine the Tooth Crag at the northern end, the Star Stones and landing area on the eastern rim, and the remnants of the earthslide at the southern end.

As the dragons grew stronger, they began to fly to Fort Hold, Fort Sea Hold, Ruatha and other Holds within easy flying distance. As before, they were instructed to fix the landmarks in their minds from various angles and to remember these marks rather than variable fixtures such as trees or buildings.

As well as lessons, they had to take turns as watch-dragon on the fire-heights, initially assisting an older rider, then on their own. It was boring duty, and D'min complained loud and long whenever it was his turn, but to B'lee it was a chance to let his mind and body rest while he scoured the horizon for any incoming dragons or aberrant Threadfall. He couldn't play his gitar while on duty, but he could hum, and he found himself developing a new tune or variation almost every time. He had managed to scrounge a shallow tray to make a sand-table for his weyr, and spent many a happy hour working on a song until it was complete enough to be transcribed to parchment. When he had a couple more ready, he planned to show them to Willan, but for the present he was content to play them for himself or for D'min and S'gan.

* * *

They were a little apprehensive about learning to fly _between,_ that strange transition through nothingness that permitted them to travel to any part of Pern in a few heartbeats. They had all of them heard the stories about weyrlings who disappeared and were never seen again, or of the time that an earthquake had split a rock face in two and revealed the grisly evidence of a dragon and weyrling who had materialised _inside_ the rock. Naturally, it was these stories rather than the numerous successes that occupied their minds, and B'lee approached their first lesson with a knot of anxiety in his stomach.

F'neldril, who took most of their classes now, stressed again that each Weyr and Hold had designated points for coming out of _between_ , and that as long as they were careful and moved out of these spaces quickly, there was very little danger of a collision. He also emphasised that almost all dragonets and weyrlings grasped the concept very easily and made successful transitions the first time.

He started them out on the easiest of transitions: from the Weyr's east rim to the west. First he had them fly to the east rim, so that the landmarks would be fresh in their minds, then he moved them around to the west rim.

"Who will go first?" he asked.

There was a brief pause, but B'lee wasn't surprised when D'min raised his hand and said "We will."

F'neldril smiled and nodded. "Very well. Remember - always have your destination clearly pictured in your mind before you jump."

D'min nodded, and concentrated on his transfer point. Then Aurieth leapt up, gave a couple of wing strokes to ensure she was well clear of the ledge and ... disappeared.

B'lee could see F'neldril counting under his breath. It seemed like forever, but in reality couldn't have been more than a dozen heartbeats, before Aurieth re-appeared on the far side of the Weyr, above the Star Stones.

B'lee couldn't help it - he was yelling his relief and approval, and all the others joined in, cheering D'min for his effort. D'min raised an arm, and Aurieth leapt up again, but this time flew the long way around to rejoin them, taking only twice as long as the flight _between_.

"Well done," F'neldril said, and D'min beamed under the praise.

"Aurieth did it," he said proudly. "She's the best dragon ever."

F'neldril smiled knowingly, and patted Mnanth's neck, as if to reassure him that no stripling green would ever be better than his own brown.

D'min's feat set the tone for the rest of the day: all the dragons were able to transfer from east rim to west, and there were no casualties.

When it was B'lee's turn, he knew he was a little nervous, but seeing the others do it so easily made him determined not to fail. He gave Margroth the landmarks he needed, and then told him to go _between_.

It was cold, and dark, and frightening - the most frightening experience he'd ever had. But, as before, it last only for the space of ten heartbeats or so, and then he was back in the warm air over the Weyr, looking back at his classmates. He heard the cheers, and flew Margroth back the long way.

 _That was well done_ , he said, pleased that Margroth had made the transfer so smoothly.

 _It is easy. I just think of where I want to be and there I am._

Well, he would never understand exactly how they did it, but if it helped them to get from one side of Pern to the other in a few heartbeats, then he wasn't going to complain.

He rejoined the rest of the class and watched the last few weyrlings make the transition. When they had all finished, he saw F'neldril visibly relaxing, and he wondered what it must be like to be in charge of the weyrlings, where deaths and injury - though infrequent - occurred more often than anyone liked. But it was foolish to dwell on possible disasters when the day had turned out so well, and B'lee headed towards the lake with a light heart and a spring in his step.

After that they practised going _between_ nearly every day. At first, they flew straight to a destination and then transferred back. Once they had all mastered that (which the dragons found remarkably easy) they practised taking directions from Mnanth or Belleth to familiar places, and then, finally, directions to unfamiliar places. They went all over the continent, to all the Weyrs and several of the major holds. They never landed, though, and merely stayed long enough to fix the landmarks in their minds and for F'neldril to send a message to the local watch dragon.

Through all of these transitions there was an element of nervousness. D'min told him that the Weyr lost a dragon and rider every couple of years while learning _between_ , but they were never sure if it was the dragon or the rider who caused the accident. All they could do to minimise the risk was to take the training in easy stages and hope that no one panicked.

One thing that B'lee hoped to do, once he was allowed to transfer on his own, was to visit his family at High Reaches Weyr. He still missed his parents, his brothers and his sisters, even though he hadn't seen them in so many Turns. He received letters a couple of times a Turn from his mother, and so he knew, for instance, that he had yet another little nephew he hadn't seen (a third son for his eldest brother) but he longed to see them.

The day that they had materialised out of between into the cool air above High Reaches Hold had been particularly poignant: he had never imagined that the cold grey stones and dark forests could have looked so beautiful as they did from the air. He wished that he could take a few minutes to descend and greet his family, but F'neldril had told them all sternly that they were on training flights, not pleasure trips. Any private travel would have to wait until they were assigned to the wings.

He sighed, and made the most of the few minutes that they were above his childhood home. He could see the drumheights, and the Gather Ground, and the road that led down to High Reaches Sea Hold, where the shipbuilding yards were. He could see people scurrying around the fields and courtyards, busy doing their work or just simply staring up at the dragons in the sky, but none of them were clear enough to identify. He felt a sudden intense yearning to see his family again, and promised himself that he would return as soon as he could.

* * *

As luck would have it, B'lee was rostered for watch-dragon duty on his birthday. He grimaced as the roster was read out, but didn't care to explain himself to D'min or S'gan. He was going to be 21, and that was far too old to be making childish complaints about birthdays. Besides, he didn't want anyone to make a fuss, and the best way of avoiding that was to make sure that no one knew about it.

The day passed as it usually did on watch, in complete and utter boredom, alleviated only by D'min bringing him a spicy fruit bun in addition to the usual noonday meatroll. He sighed in relief as the sun went down and the watch-wher came snuffling out of its den and onto the heights. He hurried down to the evening meal, and managed to slide into place just before the meal was served.

He joined a party in J'loran's weyr after dinner, and there was a lot of laughing and playing and fooling around before they all retired to bed. B'lee considered that it hadn't been a bad birthday, all things considered, but he promised himself that the next year he was going to spend his birthday at High Reaches, with his family.

* * *

The following sevenday was the Fort Hold Harvest Gather, held a day later than usual this year because of Threadfall. All the senior weyrlings were rostered for passenger duties, but that was a small price to pay for being allowed back to Fort Hold. He and D'min compared their duty-sheets, and found that they both had three hours free in the middle of the day when they could walk the gather themselves.

B'lee was ecstatic. "I'll be able to show you the Harperhall," he told D'min. "You'll be able to see where I lived for five Turns, and meet all my old friends."

"And I'll be able to meet some more riders," enthused D'min.

"Surely you can't have bedded every blue rider here already?" asked B'lee, scandalised.

"Of course not," snorted D'min, "but it's always good to have a wider pool to choose from."

"At least we can thank Faranth you're not a breeder," said S'gan, morosely. "The way you cast your favours, we'd be overrun with little Dominets."

D'min threw a glove at him. "You're just jealous because you won't be there."

"Rub it in, why don't you?" growled S'gan. He was on the sick list after falling down the stairs, and sported a most uncomfortable-looking splint on his right arm. There would be no flying for him for a few sevendays yet, and definitely no going _between_ , and he was making the most of every opportunity to complain about his lot.

"I'll bring you back some bubbly pies," promised B'lee.

"It’s not the same when they're cold."

"So get Lath to heat them up for you!"

"Oh, funny, funny. Get out, both of you."

D'min and B'lee looked at each other, then giggled. "It's my weyr," B'lee pointed out, but S'gan just stretched out on the sleeping furs and gestured vaguely with his good arm.

"You can have it back tonight. Just leave me to mope in peace."

"All right, grumblebum," said D'min, and dropped a kiss onto the invalid's cheek before leaving. "I'll see you down in the bowl, then, B'lee?"

"I'll just be a couple of minutes."

Their transport assignments proceeded without much in the way of incident, apart from the new wife of Holder Endaron, who was scared of travelling on dragonback and had to be cajoled into climbing onto Aurieth. All the other transfers went well, and they arrived at Fort Hold with the last delivery an hour before noon. Gleefully the young riders doffed their wherhide jackets and stuffed them in their dragons' carrying nets. They both wore their best tunics underneath, complete with shoulder knots (still a weyrling knot, alas, but they hoped it wouldn't be too long before they were sent to the wings), and they walked through to the gather while Aurieth and Margroth flew off to join the throng of dragons in the foothills of the cliff.

The Fort Hold Harvest Gather was the largest and busiest on Pern. There were booths without number, displays of juggling and acrobatics, and at one end of the ground a stage had been set up, where members of the Harperhall provided a never-ending stream of songs and music to dance to. In his time as an apprentice, B'lee had often done his duty on the stage, both as singer and gitarist, and he was both pleased and sad that this time he was only a spectator.

He almost didn't recognise Timmony, the first of his harper friends they met that day. The lad had grown since B'lee had seen him last, and was now taller than him by a good two inches. He recognised B'lee, though, and came running over to greet him.

"Billee!" he shouted, and B'lee smiled and hugged him warmly. "Oh, sorry, I should have said B'lee," he added. "How are you? We thought we'd never see you again. I thought you said you'd visit us!"

B'lee returned the hug with enthusiasm. "I haven't been allowed. This is my first gather since I left, can you believe that?"

"Oh, that's terrible. I bet you haven't even had a bubbly pie yet."

"No, indeed. We're heading right for the booth now. Oh, Timmony, this is my friend D'min, rider of green Aurieth. D'min, this is Timmony, who was the baby of the hall when I left and is now on his way to be a giant, by the look of him."

Timmony laughed. "Kirra can't believe it - she says I can outgrow my clothes overnight, and it's nearly true."

"Well, she seems to be keeping you well-supplied, anyway.'

"Yes, I only got this set off her last week. Come on. We need to see Sallo about bubbly pies. I'm sure you'll get a good deal when he knows you used to be a harper."

He dragged them to the bakery booth, where Journeyman Sallo was just bringing out another tray of the delectable pies from the portable oven set up behind him. The aroma was mouth-watering, and B'lee watched as D'min took a deep bite, only to squeal as the hot fruit burned his mouth.

"You didn't tell me they were that hot!" he complained. "I need water."

"Burning your mouth is half the fun," chided Timmony. "But there are fruit drinks just across the way." He led them over and B'lee bought his friends each a drink, smiling ruefully at D'min as he gulped down the cool liquid.

Just then there was an outbreak of applause from the stage area, and Timmony looked around anxiously. "Shells! I think I'm on in a minute. I'm playing second gitar in a round of dances."

"Before you go, do you know where Fergonal and Simmon are?"

"Fergonal's on stage with me, but I'll tell him you're here. Simmon walked the tables and got sent to Nabol, poor thing."

"Thanks. Tell Fergonal I'll try and find him after your performance. You'd better run along now."

Timmony gulped down the rest of his drink and smiled. "Catch you later. Good to meet you, D'min!" he called back over his shoulder as he raced off.

"Well," said B'lee, "that was Timmony. They're not all like that, though. Some of them are relatively normal."

"I'm glad to hear it," said D'min dryly, but he smiled and linked his arm through B'lee's as they strolled down the aisle of booths.

It was said that at the Fort Hold Gather you could buy anything you wanted, from a beaker of water to a herd of runnerbeasts. B'lee and D'min saw almost as great a range on offer (the runnerbeasts were actually bought and sold in an adjacent field), and spent a good half hour walking through the booths, exclaiming at the colours and the workmanship.

Neither of them had much money to spend. They'd been given a mark apiece for their work that day, and B'lee still had two eighth-marks from work he'd sold as an apprentice harper, but that didn't go very far when a fancy belt decorated in silver cost two marks. B'lee looked at it sadly, but was resolute in putting it down.

"I could lend you the money," said D'min, and B'lee laughed.

"What money? You never have any money."

"I do so! D'ran gave me a couple of marks. F'neldril told him I did really well at flying _between_. I guess he must be proud of me."

"Oh, that's great!" B'lee gave his friend a quick hug. He knew how much his father's approval meant to D'min, and was happy that D'ran had heard how well his son was doing. "But, seriously, I don’t want you to lend me any. I wasn't really looking at the belt anyway - I want to buy some wool yarn - the soft kind, not tapestry wool. If I can get enough to make some scarves I can barter them or sell them. That will be much better in the long run.

D'min nodded. "You're right. That's a good idea. Maybe I should get weaving yarn and make some braids. Shards! We should have volunteered for the Southern Boll gather - we could get a much better deal there."

"When is it?"

"Two Sevendays from now - but it's much smaller and I think all the duty spots are filled." He stood there for a minute, biting his lip, then said, "Oh, never mind, let's just see what we can do here."

In the end, they were quite happy with their purchases. B'lee bought several skeins of soft wool from the long-necked herdbeasts that he knew would make wonderfully warm shawls and scarves, and D'min bought fine threads for weaving, including a precious skein of gold that cost half a mark in itself. B'lee was appalled at the cost, but D'min assured him that a little bit of gold went a long way and would increase the value of his braids by a considerable margin.

The booth attendant, a journeyman from the Weaverhall who recognised D'min and had spent several minutes exchanging the latest gossip, was wrapping their purchases when a voice from behind made B'lee turn. Journeyman Sistel - no, it was _Master_ Sistel now - stood there, beaming.

"Well, our long-lost apprentice returns, and in good health, I trust."

"Indeed. Congratulations, Master Sistel."

"Likewise, Rider B'lee."

B'lee turned to introduce his friend. "This is green rider D'min."

"Greetings, Rider D'min."

"And to you, Master Sistel," returned D'min, courteously.

"Have you seen Master Tirone yet?"

"No, I wasn't sure where he would be.'

"He's up at the Hall, I think, but you must come and greet him. It's not often that an apprentice is Searched from the Harperhall, and we were so proud of you when we heard that you had impressed."

B'lee went red, and D'min poked him in the ribs. "Don't be daft, B'lee. Your friends are allowed to be proud of you."

B'lee nodded and walked on with them, but it took a while for the blush to fade.

They were joined on the way by Fergonal, who shouted B'lee's name from a dragon-length away and then raced up to give him a hug. "Billee! You're back!"

"Hey, Fergonal! Yes, it's me. Only for a visit, though." He hugged Fergonal back, thinking of how much he'd missed his harper friends over the previous Turn and a half.

"It's good to see you, anyway, even just for a visit. You look so tanned! Have you been in Ista?"

"No, just out flying for most of the summer."

"Have you flown Thread yet?"

"No, not yet. We've only just learned to go _between_."

Fergonal continued to pepper B'lee with questions as they approached the Harperhall. B'lee glanced around from time to time to make sure that D'min was still with them. He thought he saw a bit of a shadow in the boy's eyes as he watched B'lee being greeted by his friends, and hoped that D'min wasn't feeling ignored. It was just that B'lee hadn't seen these people for so long, and he wanted to catch up in the short hour they had left before they had to go back on duty.

He reached a hand back to D'min, and saw him take it gratefully. Then B'lee pulled him in so that he was walked with a harper on his right arm and a dragonrider on his left. And that was how it should be, he thought - different but equal.

Master Tirone was talking with one of the senior journeymen when they walked in, but he rose from his chair at the sight of Master Sistel's guests. "My dear B'lee," he said warmly, coming forward to greet his erstwhile pupil with a hearty handshake. "It is good to see you. How is that blue of yours - Margoth, isn't it?"

"Margroth. And yes, he's well, thank you."

"Excellent. And who is your friend?"

"This is Aurieth's rider, D'min."

"Greetings, D'min. Welcome to the Harperhall. I expect that B'lee has told you many a tale of his exploits here."

D'min smiled and shook the Masterharper's hand. "He has, indeed. And his skills with voice and gitar are a credit to the hall."

Master Tirone smiled even more broadly. "Well, I might allow us to take a little credit for the gitar, but I believe that B'lee's voice is all his own. Have you been playing much at the Weyr?"

"Not very often, I'm afraid. Harper Willan does such a good job that I hesitate to put myself forward. But I play for my friends occasionally, and they seem to enjoy it."

More visitors came into the hall then, a Holder, by the look of him, and Tirone turned away with an instruction that B'lee should show D'min around the Harperhall if he had time.

Master Sistel accompanied them on a quick tour of the main rooms, while Fergonal had to return to the stage for another stint as a performer. D'min was awed at the great hall, with its windows three times his height and ceilings higher still, and at the various workshops and practice rooms. He laughed when B'lee was annoyed at the disarray in the apprentices' dormitory, reminding him that the weyrling barracks had been no better.

They returned to the main entrance and bade farewell to Sistel before seeking a modest bite to eat before returning to their dragons. Once their precious bundles of wool and thread were secured to Margroth and Aurieth respectively, and they had donned the thick jackets again, they resumed their duties as passenger ferries.

S'gan was still asleep on B'lee's bed when they finally made it back to the weyrs. D'min woke him by the simple expedient of wafting a slightly-warm package of bubbly pies under his nose, and laughed when he sat bolt upright and snatched at the food with his good arm.

"Did you starve without us?"

"I went down for noonday, but I must have slept through dinner. Mmm, these are good. How many did you two have?"

"I've no idea, but I burnt my mouth. I was hoping that B'lee would kiss it better, but I think he's shy." He gave a broad wink to B'lee and threw himself down onto the bed.

B'lee couldn't help but laugh. "D'min, you're an idiot.'

"But you love me anyway.'

"That I do."

* * *

B'lee had half-expected D'min to forget about his talk of taking up weaving again, but a few days later D'min had acquired a small loom from somewhere or someone (B'lee suspected Tamina). It was only a small one, for braid trim, but it was of sturdy construction and was portable enough to allow D'min to place it on the ledge of his weyr to catch the evening light.

His first project was a simple geometric basket weave in three colours, about the width of a man's thumb. B'lee liked the look of it, and D'min set about making him a short length in the Fort Weyr colours - enough to trim the placket of a tunic. Any more, he warned, would have to be bartered.

Meanwhile, B'lee had sorted and wound the soft wool he'd bought and started to knit. He made a couple of light shawls which he'd traded (one for some material to make a new shirt, and the other for a mark that he'd use to buy more wool) and he made a pair of socks for D'min as a reciprocal gift for the braid. He also finished off the blanket for S'gan, who was well-pleased with it, and received in turn the new riding straps for Margroth.

All in all, life was starting to get a lot better.


	7. Singed

_Autumn to Winter, 35th Turn of the Present Pass_

The next step for B'lee's class, after flying _between_ , was learning to chew firestone. They started with small chunks, and the dragons had to concentrate hard as they chewed it so that it went into their second stomach and not the first. More than one dragon was unsuccessful the first time and had to vomit up a nasty mess before trying again.

It still mystified B'lee how the dragons could chew rock and produce flame, but given that it was Pern's main defence against Thread, he was very happy to see Margroth produce a small sooty belch after only a few minutes. As the amount of phosphine-bearing rock in his stomach grew, the flame grew too, until he was projecting a couple of metres.

F'neldril, having learned from previous years, insisted that the dragons were lined up and all facing in the same direction before they tried to produce flame. When Mallorth suddenly produced a flame that stretched nearly a dragonlength in front of him, B'lee silently blessed the man's foresight.

B'ret looked slightly stunned at what his dragon had done, and so did the rest of the class. Still, it was a good sign for a bronze to be able to flame so far ahead, and B'lee had a feeling that he was looking at a future Weyrleader.

It took several days for them to learn how much firestone each dragon needed in order to begin flaming, and how much they could process before having to regurgitate the ashes and start again. As was only to be expected, the bronzes and browns needed, and could hold, a lot more than the blues and greens. It was another reason why the greens were rotated in a long fall - it allowed them to regurgitate and re-stoke if necessary.

After the basics had been mastered, they started to learn how to destroy organic matter with flame. There was a trick to knowing how much flame was needed, and for how long, to destroy lichen and mould growing on rooftops, as opposed to weeds that had sprung up on the fireheights. Thread would be different again.

It was difficult to simulate Threadfall. Try as they might, the Weyrs had not been able to find anything that duplicated the way that Thread fell through the air and was carried by the wind. The best they had found was thick rope, about half a dragon-length long and the thickness of a child's arm, dropped from high over the training area - though F'neldril was anxious to point out that ropes didn't flare and wriggle in the way that Thread did. Still, it was a useful way to begin training.

They also had to learn how to perfect the "hop forward" technique that allowed the dragons to make micro-jumps _between_. It meant paying careful attention to the way that each clump of Thread was falling in order to emerge into a clear spot and not into a clump of Thread. They spent hours watching the wings flame Thread from a safe distance, trying to get the rhythm of the movement just right.

Jumping back was just as important as jumping forward, but required the riders to keep looking back in order to be able to reassure their dragons that the air behind them was clear. This, too, required much practice.

When they came to make these tiny jumps themselves, it was rather disconcerting to find out how often they would make the hop _between_ , only to catch the falling ropes as they re-emerged. B'lee noted with some annoyance that D'min was able to master the technique a lot more quickly than he did, and after several frustrating days he swallowed his pride and asked the younger rider how he managed it.

"I'm not entirely sure," replied D'min. "I just think forward or back and Aurieth does the rest."

B'lee sighed - that wasn't particularly helpful.

D'min made a suggestion. "Maybe next time Aurieth could link with Margroth. He could see what she does and then maybe you'll see too."

The next time they did rope practice, D'min repeated his offer, and B'lee told Margroth to take direction from Aurieth. As he had expected, Margroth was not keen on the concept of taking any advice from her.

B'lee tried to soothe his slightly hurt feelings. _I know you think she's just a silly green, but she's managed to master this technique very quickly. If you work with her today, we can advance in the class and show her how well we do other things._

Margroth rumbled a grudging agreement, and B'lee smiled.

He was glad he'd made the effort to placate Margroth. After only a couple of tries, Margroth had picked up the technique directly from Aurieth's mind (though he grumbled that she couldn't express herself any more clearly than her rider had to B'lee) and they were carrying out the micro-jumps with no difficulty at all.

Over the next few months they practised and practised and practised. One group dropped the coloured ropes down for the other, and watched as the ropes were flamed out of existence. A few ropes dropped to the ground, and F'neldril made the weyrlings take their dragons down and flame the remnants, just as they would have to do with Thread. It was exhausting work, and B'lee was sure that they would have burnt every length of rope on the planet before F'neldril thought they were ready to face Thread for real.

As was only to be expected, there were accidents. Early in the 11th month, Margroth got his tail scorched by Mallorth, who still had difficulty in regulating the length of his flame. He gave a yelp and B'lee felt the dragon's pain flare through his own mind. He shook his head to clear it, then ordered Margroth to descend to a nearby lake immediately. The injured blue dropped his tail into the cool water with a sigh of relief, and the agony in B'lee's mind abated.

 _I'm sorry_ , said B'lee. _Are you all right?_

 _It burns_ , replied Margroth, his tone aggrieved. _I wish Mallorth would not flame so far_.

So do I.

F'neldril came down to check the injury, telling B'lee to stay tethered in his straps for the moment. The burn didn't look all that deep, but it covered a significant area - about a third of the tail. B'lee was ordered to take Margroth back to the Weyr and get numbweed applied as soon as possible.

"How long will he be out?" asked B'lee.

"Hmm," F'neldril considered the wound. "He won't be able to jump _between_ for a few sevendays - it's hard to tell, exactly. The sooner it's treated, though, the faster he'll heal, so get yourself back to the Weyr. I'll check on you both later."

B'lee nodded, and headed back. He called out for numbweed as he descended into the bowl, and saw, with relief, that a junior weyrling with a small cauldron was heading his way as he brought Margroth to rest by the caldera lake.

It took several minutes to coat all the burnt area with the thick numbweed lotion, and during all that time B'lee could feel Margroth's pain in his head. He couldn't help but wonder how much worse the pain of Threadscore would be, since every rider who had been scored told them that the pain was far more intense than an ordinary burn.

Aurieth appeared as soon as the weyrlings were released from practice, and D'min strode over to have a look at the injury.

"How is he?"

"Not too bad now that the numbweed's on, but it was painful earlier."

"He's not going to be able to go _between_ like that, is he?" D'min said, examining the skin as best he could through the thick ointment.

"No, not for a few sevendays. Oh, Shards!" B'lee swore as he realised that Margroth wouldn't be going anywhere for the next month or so - and that included High Reaches Hold. _Oh, no._

"What is it?"

"I was going home next rest day - remember?"

D'min's face fell. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"It took fardling ages to get it all worked out, too." He'd been planning it for months, and it had taken a huge amount of effort - he'd had to check the Threadfall charts for Fort and High Reaches, and then match that against the training schedule until he'd found a rest day that allowed him to make the visit, and then he'd had to request permission from the Weyrlingmaster. Now all that effort was in vain, and he felt like crying.

D'min bit his lip. "I know how much you were looking forward to it," he started, "but surely there'll be another time?"

"But how long will it be? It'll be three or four months until there's another matching rest day." He threw the paddle down on the ground in frustration. "It's been nearly three Turns since I've seen my family, and I was looking forward to it so much."

D'min pulled him into a hug, and just for once he melted into it, letting his head rest on his friend's shoulder, clenching his fists and screwing his eyes shut to keep the tears at bay. D'min's arms were warm around him, and he soaked up the comfort, rocking gently against the solid body that held him so firmly and securely. For once D'min didn't even try to grope him, and he was grateful beyond words.

When he felt more in control of himself, he straightened up and gave D'min a slightly watery smile. "Sorry."

D'min let him go, a little reluctantly, and smiled back. "No problem. We'll work something out, you'll see."

B'lee nodded, more out of politeness than any real hope. There was no way that Margroth was going to be healed inside four or five sevendays, and not even the most reckless rider would attempt to take him _between_ until the hide was smooth and unblemished again. He'd just have to wait a few more months until the Falls and rest days aligned - or until he was assigned to a fighting wing and only had to juggle the Falls and not weyrling classes as well.

He sighed, and wondered yet again if he'd done the right thing by coming to Fort Weyr.

 _You regret being a rider?_ Margroth asked, obviously worried by the tone of B'lee's thoughts.

 _Never, dearest_ , he reassured the dragon. _But I do miss my family. I thought that once we could go between it would be easy to visit them whenever I wanted, but it hasn't turned out that way. But don’t worry about this. I'll just arrange another time when you're well again_.

 _I'll try to heal quickly_.

B'lee laughed. _I know you will_.

He turned back to D'min, who had been picking up the paddles and pots of ointment while he talked with Margroth, and reached out a hand to take some of the burden.

D'min shook his head, indicating that he was well able to cope with the implements, and asked, "Would you like Aurieth to hunt for him? She's due for a feed tomorrow."

 _Margroth? Are you hungry?_

 _Not now. Maybe tomorrow_.

"He said maybe tomorrow."

"Fine, I'll ask Aurieth to get him something after she's eaten then."

"Thanks."

They made their way slowly back across the bowl.

* * *

Healer Berchar examined the burn every day at first, and was meticulous in his inspection. He was particularly worried that the small tailfin might have been damaged, as that would make it much more difficult for Margroth to fly. Moreta was consulted, but although she shared Berchar's concerns, she was confident that Margroth would make a full recovery.

D'min went out of his way to help when it came to caring for Margroth, who had decided to spend the first two nights at the caldera lake, lying on the shore with his tail submerged in the cool water. Aurieth hunted for him, and D'min helped to clean and dress the burn. Aurieth lifted B'lee up and down from the weyr whenever he needed it, and he was always careful to thank her. Riding someone else's dragon was very odd to B'lee now, and he hoped that Margroth would soon be well enough to fly, at least up and down to their weyr.

 _I will, when this does not hurt so much._

 _I'm sorry_ , said B'lee. _Do you need more numbweed?_

 _At the end of the tail. It wears off quickly down there._

 _You shouldn't move it as much, then._

 _The water keeps it cool._

 _And washes off the salve that I just spent ages putting on!_

 _I'm sorry._

 _Don't be. I'm just teasing you_. B'lee knew he shouldn't tease, but the sight of the unhappy dragon twitching his tail in the water was rather amusing, and it helped to keep his mind of the crushing disappointment of losing his chance to visit his family.

It would be several sevendays before Margroth could resume training, and B'lee was allocated Weyr duties in the meantime. He had a couple of days being a runner for the Weyrleader and wingleaders, and spent much of his time waiting outside the council room. It wasn't to his taste, simply waiting and doing nothing, and he was glad when Harper Willan offered him the chance to help him with some teaching duties for the younger children.

"Just a couple of the mandatory duty ballads, that's all," croaked the harper, who had picked up a winter cold. "I can't sing at all, and my head's so stuffy I can barely concentrate to play."

B'lee jumped at the offer. He missed his music, and the chance to play and teach was as much a treat as a way to fill in his days before Margroth was passed fit again.

That very afternoon, he retrieved the gitar from his weyr and checked the strings. They were a little out of tune, but otherwise in good condition, and he strummed a few chords, adjusting the tuning knobs. Once he was happy with it, he strode down to the cavern they used for teaching the youngsters.

Harper Willan introduced him to the class, all of them around eight to ten Turns old, and then retired for a much-needed rest. B'lee looked at the faces - some eager, some bored, some downright rebellious - and hoped that everything would go well.

He needn't have worried. For the children, any change from the somewhat dour Willan was a welcome one, and B'lee remembered enough about his own days at High Reaches to keep them busy. He played them one of the ballads that Willan had suggested, then got them to learn it, line by line. By the end of an hour, they had learned most of it, but were starting to get a little tired, so he suggested a counting game instead.

By the time that the afternoon was over, he felt exhausted, but the children seemed to have enjoyed themselves and smiled at him as they ran back to the nursery kitchen for their meal. He rearranged the chairs and covered the glow-baskets before reporting to Harper Willan on his progress.

"That's very good, B'lee," the harper said, thanking him for his time, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper. "Would you be able to continue for the next sevenday or so?"

"Gladly. As long as you tell me what you want them to learn in each session."

"Of course. I keep to a general plan for each age group, but of course one has to be flexible to allow for differences in ability, or a sudden influx of new ballads."

"Little Jellah has a fine voice and a quick ear for one so young."

"You spotted that too?" Willan nodded. "I think we may well have to look at sending her over to the Harperhall when she'd older. Her mother was a fine singer, too, though she never trained at the hall."

"Was? What happened to her?"

"She died - she was Sallah, the gold rider. She died in childbirth, and the baby with her. That would be ... oh, three Turns ago, now. One of the reasons that Moreta and Orlith transferred from Ista."

"Ah. I hadn't realised. She seems such a happy girl."

"Well, she was already fostered, of course, so she still had family around her. And no one can be completely alone in a Weyr."

B'lee smiled ruefully. "I've gathered that." But the lack of privacy when he wanted to play his gitar was a small thing when compared with the way that the Weyr held together and protected the welfare of its young, and he had to admit that the system had more advantages than drawbacks.

"Well, you'd best go and see to your dragon before Berchar accuses you of neglect."

"I'll return after breakfast, shall I?"

"Yes, that would be ideal. I can show you what I've drawn up for the next few days before the class starts."

B'lee smiled and left to visit Margroth again. The weyrling class must have ended, since he found Aurieth there too, and D'min looking over the injury as carefully as if Margroth were his own dragon.

"There's a bare patch here, by the tail," pronounced D'min as B'lee approached.

"Did you think I would miss it?" asked B'lee, irritated.

"Well, no, but you weren't here."

"I was talking with Harper Willan. I'll be taking more of his classes for the next few days, until he's better. And I came straight from there to see how Margroth is, so don't you dare accuse me of neglecting him."

"I wasn't -"

"Well, what were you doing?"

"I was just helping."

B'lee took a deep breath. He was tired after all that playing, and anxious because of Margroth's injury, and worried that he was going to miss too much training and get held back. His shoulders ached, and he moved them experimentally, trying to ease the tensions.

"You look like you could use a backrub," said D'min, more sympathetically.

"Are you offering?"

D'min cocked his head to one side and grinned. "Might be. Let's get Margroth sorted and then I'll see what I can scrounge from the kitchen so we don't have to go down to dinner."

B'lee exhaled in relief. That sounded like a wonderful idea - as long as D'min didn't try to take things too far.

D'min, though, appeared to be on his best behaviour. Once Margroth's wounds had been adequately cleaned and dressed, he took off, and reappeared from the kitchens clutching a large package and a full wineskin. He called to Aurieth to take them up to the weyrs, and the green landed beside them with a delicate furl of her wings.

As soon as B'lee reached his weyr, he lay down on his bed with an audible sigh. He did love playing his gitar, but it was a long time since he'd played for any length of time, and his muscles weren't used to it. Added to that, he wasn't used to controlling a class of lively children. He was exhausted in mind and body.

When B'lee started to try and ease the knots in his back, D'min said, "Roll over and take off your tunic. I'll give you that back rub I promised."

B'lee took his tunic off, casting a suspicious glance at D'min as he did so.

"Word of honour, B'lee, just a back rub."

"All right, I'll believe you."

D'min poured out a little of the oily salve they used for the dragons' flaky skin, and straddled B'lee's thighs to get a better angle. Then he set to work, and B'lee sighed with relief. D'min was very good at giving back rubs and although he didn't really want to think about how D'min had acquired that expertise, he was glad to be the beneficiary.

"Mmm, that's good," he managed to say, a few minutes after D'min had started. "You've got good hands."

"Why thank you," replied D'min, his voice betraying his amusement. "Not the only part of my body that's admired, though," he added.

"I'm going to assume that you're talking about your eyes. And I don't want any details."

D'min laughed and kept on massaging B'lee's back. "You just don't know what you're missing."

"And that's the way it's going to stay," he added, as firmly as he could while almost dissolved into the bed.

"Hah. Well, in that case I might not tell you what I just arranged with F'neldril."

"Mmm ... what?"

"I talked to him this morning, about getting leave next rest day."

B'lee made a face into the pillow. _He_ wasn't going anywhere next rest day, and he didn't particularly want to hear about whatever assignation D'min was planning.

"Aren't you interested?"

"No."

"Oh, that's a shame. Because I talked to F'neldril about maybe taking Aurieth to High Reaches Hold for the day. I figured you might want to come along, introduce me to your family, show me around, that sort of thing."

B'lee lifted his head up and tried to roll over. "You what?"

D'min grinned at him, though there was an anxious look in his eye, as if he wasn't quite sure if B'lee would approve of his meddling. "I thought, since you were so upset about Margroth being grounded, that you might appreciate a lift from Aurieth. We could take you there. It wouldn't be quite the same as flying there on your own dragon, I know, but at least you'd be seeing your family. And you can take Margroth the next time there's a rest day without Threadfall."

"You'd give up your rest day for me? But I thought you were going to spend it with M'ken."

"Well, he wasn't happy, but I've promised him something special to make up for it." D'min sat back on his heels and smiled at B'lee. "Besides, you're my best friend. I couldn't see you so unhappy without trying to do something about it."

B'lee was overwhelmed. Rest days without Thread somewhere in Fort's domain were few and far between, and he was staggered that D'min would give up a day with his current lover, a green rider in 4 Wing, just to ferry B'lee to High Reaches and back.

"Thank you," he said, sitting up and pulling D'min into a hug. "It means so much to me."

D'min beamed at him. "That's what friends are for, right?"

Indeed it was, and B'lee thought that D'min was the best friend a man could ever hope to have.


	8. High Reaches

_Winter, 35th Turn of the Present Pass_

The next rest day found D'min and B'lee circling over High Reaches Hold as Aurieth called to the watch dragon and requested permission to land. They landed in the great courtyard and hurried to dismount, sliding down Aurieth's neck and landing neatly on the bare earth. D'min reached up to release the carrying net that held several despatches and parcels for various people in the Hold, and so B'lee was the first to greet the rather pompous-looking man who had come out to meet them.

"Welcome, dragonriders, to High Reaches Hold. How may we help you?"

"Kandis!" exclaimed B'lee. "It's B'lee - Billee - Baras's youngest son."

"Billee! Well, well, well, so it is." The pompous air disappeared at once and was replaced by a warm joviality and a broad smile. "You've done very well for yourself, lad. So this is your dragon, then?"

"No," B'lee's face fell as he was forced to explain. "My dragon, Margroth, was injured in training a few days ago, and can't fly _between_. This beauty is Aurieth, and her rider, here, is my friend D'min."

"Welcome to High Reaches, Green Rider D'min."

"Thank you. It is a beautiful hold, and I'm looking forward to meeting Blee's family."

"Of course, of course. Willa did mention that her boy would be visiting soon, but I confess that it slipped my mind. I'm sure that the news of your arrival will bring her along very shortly, and your father too."

D'min gestured to the carrying net. "I have some parcels and scrolls here. Where should I put them?"

"Follow me and I'll take you into the main hall. Millat - Lord Kavin's scribe - will no doubt take them and make sure they all get to the right people."

"Thank you. May I send Aurieth to await us elsewhere? She does take up rather a lot of space, I'm afraid."

Kandis hesitated, and D'min hastened to add, "She fed yesterday, and is not hungry. She'll keep well clear of your herds."

Kandis relaxed, and suggested that Aurieth might want to rest in a valley to the east of the Hold, where she would be sheltered from the wind and would get what little sun there was at this time of the Turn.

"Thank you," said D'min, and relayed the information to Aurieth, who butted her head against D'min's side affectionately and then launched herself into the air with a flourish that had everyone holding onto their clothing.

They walked through the courtyard to the large building that jutted out from the cliff. B'lee noted a few changes - they had finally finished repairing the top of the Great Tower after it had been struck with lightning a few Turns ago, and it looked as if they had replaced one or two of the bronze shutters, which gleamed more brightly than the others.

Lord Kavin's work chambers were close to the main hall, up a short stairway. Millat, a thin, spare man with a harried look, took the scrolls and other items and returned the empty carrynet to D'min with a smile before they were ushered in to pay their respects to the Lord Holder.

Lord Kavin was a smallish man, with grizzled hair and a pleasant face, dressed in plain woollen trousers and a knitted jumper in a thick rib pattern. He greeted the two youngsters affably and looked at B'lee with a measure of approval. "I believe that your mother is keen to see you, cousin, so I won't keep you. Millat will have some scrolls for you to take back with you this afternoon, if you agree."

"Of course, Lord Holder," replied B'lee, bowing slightly. "We'll make sure to deliver them to the Weyrleader as soon as we return."

"Good." Lord Kavin nodded dismissal, and the two youngsters followed Kandis back down the stairs.

"Cousin?" queried D'min in an undertone. "You never mentioned that."

"Distant cousin. Very distant. And he wouldn't even have mentioned it if I weren't a rider."

They had barely reached the threshold of the main hall when B'lee heard his mother's voice and turned to see her hurrying towards him. He held his arms out and took her up in a warm hug.

"Oh, Billee, my boy!" she cried as she tried to squeeze the very breath out of him. "You've grown so! I would scarcely have known you! Such broad shoulders you have!"

"Mum!" he squeaked, barely able to speak at all, she was holding him so tightly.

Finally she let go of him just enough that she was able to take a good look at him. "You're too thin. Aren't you eating enough?

"I'm fine, Mum. Honest."

There were more people crowding around them as B'lee was recognised, and he scanned the faces anxiously, looking for his father. Two of his brothers appeared, looking much older than he had expected. Sorin, his eldest brother, was losing his hair already and starting to thicken around the middle, while Tomin looked self-important and slightly discontented, as usual. They both greeted B'lee amicably, though, and Tomin even remembered the honorific contraction.

"Do you not recognise your friends anymore, then?" came a deep voice from behind him, and he turned to see Johan and Ricon, his friends throughout his childhood, looking at him with amusement. They were both taller than him now - _everyone_ was taller than him, no matter that he'd grown several inches in the last three years - but they still had the same grins and gleam of mischief in their eyes.

"You!" he exclaimed, grabbing them both and getting pulled into a hug. "I'd know you anywhere. Still getting into trouble without me?"

"I'll have you know we're responsible men now," huffed Ricon.

"We are," confirmed Johan. "We're responsible for everything that goes wrong!" He laughed and gave B'lee a hefty blow on the shoulder. B'lee tried not to wince; he'd forgotten that little trick of Johan's.

Then his father appeared through the crowd, and all of B'lee's anxiety flared once more. What did his father really think of him giving up his Harper training in order to become a dragonrider?

"So, son, it's a dragonrider you are now, then?" Baras's tone was neutral, neither welcoming nor disapproving, giving B'lee no clue as to his feelings on the matter.

"Aye, father." B'lee hesitated, wondering what to say next. Should he apologise for upsetting their plans or should he stand up for dragons and their riders?

Then he felt a hand fall on his shoulder, and his father was beaming down at him. "Well done, lad. It's been the talk of the Hold, one of our own impressing at Fort Weyr."

B'lee shrugged and grinned. "Someone has to show those southerners how it's done." There was a ripple of laughter at his pleasantry.

"He's been a good ambassador for both High Reaches and the Harperhall. B'lee is well-respected at the Weyr."

B'lee turned around at the unexpected interruption. D'min had spoken more seriously and less flippantly than B'lee had ever heard him. Baros raised an eyebrow, and B'lee realised that in the confusion, he hadn't introduced D'min to anyone.

"Oh, father, this is Green Rider D'min, who was kind enough to bring me here."

"Pleased to meet you, rider D'min," Baros replied, shaking D'min's hand absently. "And what about your own dragon?"

And B'lee found himself explaining once more about Margroth's unfortunate injury.

His story was interrupted, to his relief, by the sudden and noisy arrival of several youngsters: his nephews, nieces and young cousins, all of whom had to be introduced and exclaimed over. With an apologetic glance to his father, he fussed over the children for a little while, until the youngest ones grew bored and the oldest ran out of questions.

He caught sight of D'min, off to one side, looking on with some amusement and perhaps some envy at B'lee's enthusiastic reception. It was certainly a much warmer welcome than D'min had received at the Weyr on his return from Southern Boll, but B'lee couldn't help that, and he wasn't going to hold back in his greetings just because it might make his friend feel uncomfortable.

"Off with you, brats," Baros proclaimed, suddenly. "Let an old man spend some time with his son by the fire."

B'lee couldn't help smiling at the thought that anyone might think his father old, but after so many years in the south his blood had thinned and he felt quite cold himself.

Baros took B'lee's arm and led him over to the table nearest the fire, calling for some klah, which arrived in the large thick mugs that were just the right size to be held in both hands. Billy checked that D'min had one as well, then sipped it, grateful for the additional warmth.

The group followed them, and soon B'lee found himself in a circle of family and friends, all of them leaning forward, keen to listen to whatever he had to say. It was a very heady feeling. He began to tell them about his Impression of Margroth, and what they'd done in training so far, and how Margroth had been injured. He had to promise to bring Margroth the next time he visited, which he did most willingly, and was pleased when D'min was spontaneously included in the invitation.

Time passed in a blur of talk and chatter. The noonday meal was served around them, and still they talked. A couple of the girls - Samara and Janetta, if he remembered correctly - offered to show D'min around the Hold. D'min agreed, and accompanied them up the stairs with a grin and a wink to B'lee. B'lee caught the somewhat chagrined look on Johan's face and chuckled inwardly. Johan obviously had no clue about D'min's preferences, and while B'lee had no doubt that the girls were quite safe from any improper advances, he wasn't going to say so - he felt he owed Johan for that earlier thump on the shoulder.

He never noticed the time passing until D'min returned and nudged him, gesturing to the window. It was with some alarm that B'lee realised that the light was fading and they really ought to get back to Fort Weyr. He stood up and started to make his farewells, but his mother was reluctant to let him go.

"Oh, do you have to go so soon?" she asked, putting a hand on his arm as if she could physically stop him from leaving.

"I'm afraid so. Our leave is only good until sunset, and Fort Weyr's an hour ahead of here. We'll only just make it as it is."

They moved out to the courtyard, where B'lee hugged his father and brothers before giving his mother one last kiss.

"Oh, Billee," she said sadly, "you will come back and visit us again, won't you?"

"Of course I will," he reassured her. "It'll be easier next Turn, when I'm in the Wing. I'll try and get over here for a Gather day."

"That would be lovely." She blotted a tear from her eye with her sleeve, and gave B'lee a bright smile. It nearly broke his heart to have to leave her again - to leave them all - but he knew he'd be back, and next time he'd be on Margroth.

D'min had already called Aurieth down from the hillside, and she was waiting for them in the courtyard, looking around rather anxiously as the large group of people approached. D'min scrambled up and started to fasten his riding straps while B'lee made his final farewells to his mother and father. Then he climbed up, warning the others to stand well back.

"All set, then, B'lee?" asked D'min, as he checked that B'lee was strapping himself in.

"All set." B'lee fastened the last buckle and put his arms around D'min's waist.

"Let's go, then."

Aurieth lifted her wings, sprang up on her powerful haunches and gave a mighty downsweep as she launched into the air. The spectators were buffeted by the eddies of dust that were created by the downdraft, and B'lee hoped that his sisters would forgive him for dirtying their dresses. He kept his gaze trained on the small group below, twisting in his seat as Aurieth banked and climbed ever higher above the Hold.

"Do you think we'll make it back before sunset?"

D'min gave a look at the horizon to the west, where the sun was just touching the sea. "We can only try," he muttered. "Hang on, I'm going to send Aurieth _between_."

There was a moment's delay, and then the terrifying nothingness that they would never get used to, and then they were in the air over Fort Weyr. B'lee glanced west, and saw that it was still twilight - the sun had not yet set, although it had sunk below the mountain range that divided the Boll peninsular. He shook his head in puzzlement. What had happened? Fort Weyr was east of High Reaches - if it was sunset there, it should be past twilight and into night here.

He tapped D'min on the shoulder and pointed to the orange glow over the mountains. "We're too early. What happened?"

D'min looked at the sky, then at the Weyr below them, where the shadows were deep but there was still light enough to make out the few people walking across the bowl, and the weyrmouths on the western rim. "I don't know," he said. "Aurieth says we wanted to be back here before sunset and we are, so why are we worried?"

B'lee considered what D'min said for a moment. "But ... but that's not possible." He looked at his friend. "Is it?"

D'min shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it's one of those things they don't teach us until later."

"But I've never even heard it mentioned. Have you?"

"No. And that's a first."

"That I can believe," said B'lee, wryly.

D'min grinned back at him. "Should we ask F'neldril?"

B'lee shook his head. "Not just yet. If it turns out we're not allowed to do it yet we might get into trouble."

"True. Maybe we should just ask a couple of the riders about it - discreetly."

"Maybe we shouldn't talk about it at all. Not until we're in the wings, anyway. It could be dangerous."

D'min nodded. "I wouldn't want to meet myself in a corridor somewhere." He shivered. "But it has to be of some use, otherwise the dragons wouldn't be able to do it."

B'lee nodded, and they started their descent.

* * *

That night, he found himself thinking of High Reaches, feeling both glad and sorry that he was no longer bound to the Hold. He missed his family, certainly - he would never get over that completely, he suspected - but in other ways he was glad that he no longer lived there. Everything had seemed smaller, more self-concerned, with little appreciation of the Weyrs beyond the necessity of tithing.

It was hard to believe that he had once been so homesick that he'd tried to run away from the Harperhall. But he'd been young then, not even used to sleeping in a bed on his own. Now he was a dragonrider, with all of Fort Weyr's domain to protect, and all of Pern to visit. He had to take a larger view of the world than a Holder did, or he wouldn't be able to fight effectively.

Ricon and Johan would probably never even travel as far as the neighbouring Holds, let alone Nabol or Tillek. Their concerns were all about finding the next ale, or the next willing girl. They had no idea about the complex interrelationships among Hold and Weyr, of the real hardships that the Weyrs faced when tithes were late, of the peril that dragons faced every Threadfall. He realised, with some regret, that he had grown away from them. Had they noticed it too?

He belonged to Fort Weyr now. He belonged to his dragon and his fellow riders. His friends would never understand that, and even his parents could have little understanding of what it really meant to be a dragonrider. He had more in common with D'min now than with any of his former family or friends, no matter that their upbringings had been so different. D'min was a part of his life, now, more than his blood family.

He fell asleep at last, thinking not of the past, but of the present and future - of D'min's generosity, and of the day that Margroth would be cleared to fly again.

* * *

The weather turned very cold the week before the winter solstice, and everyone scurried around for their warmest clothes. D'min complained loudly that he couldn't find his scarf and turned the collar of his wherhide jacket up to his ears.

"I was sure I put it back in my chest, but I can't find it anywhere. I'm going to freeze out there today."

S'gan told him not to be such a sissy, but B'lee looked at him and sighed. He'd noticed that D'min needed a new scarf some months ago, and had knitted him one over the autumn, intending it to be a Solstice gift. If he waited any longer to give it, though, D'min might well buy himself another and his effort would be wasted. He beckoned D'min to follow him, and retrieved the gift from the bottom of his chest. He held it out to D'min, saying, "Here you are. It's a bit early, but I think you need it."

D'min's eyes lit up when he saw the scarf, and he gasped with delight when he felt how soft and light it was. B'lee had chosen a soft wool from the long-necked herdbeast in a bright grassy green that he hoped would tone well with Aurieth's hide, and he'd used an old High Reaches rib stitch that made a thick, warm layer to keep the heat in and the wind out. He smiled as he watched D'min unfurling the length and then wrapping it around his neck.

"It feels like a cloud," said D'min, wonderingly, as he played with the ends of the scarf. "I can't believe you made this for me." Then B'lee was enveloped in a tight hug as D'min thanked him. "You're the best friend ever, you know."

"Just don't lose this one," he admonished, though he couldn't help smiling.

"I won't. I'll keep it safe." D'min squeezed him tight for a few more seconds, then added, a little anxiously, "I have a Solstice gift for you, too, only it isn't quite finished yet."

"I can wait," said B'lee.

"I can show you, if you want."

B'lee shook his head. "Wait until it's finished. Then you can surprise me."

D'min grinned. "I'll try and get it done by Solstice."

He was as good as his word, and B'lee woke up on Solstice morning to find two lengths of braid, in shades of blue, sitting on the table. He picked it up and admired the evenness of the weave and the way that the colours blended in. A small movement startled him, and he looked up to see D'min hovering uncertainly at the doorway.

"I love it!" he said, immediately, and saw D'min relax and come into the room. "It's so intricate - it must have taken you ages."

D'min shrugged. "A bit longer than I expected. I had to stop in the middle to do a braid for K'lon - that's why it's in two parts."

"I don't mind. I can use one length for the cuffs and the other for the neckline. It'll be perfect for a new summer gather shirt."

"That's what I hoped you'd do with it." D'min grinned and sat on the bed, tucking his feet under the furs.

"What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you'd be with M'ken, since there's no Fall until this evening."

D'min grimaced. "We've broken up."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh well, it was never going to last, anyway."

"Why not? You seemed to get on pretty well."

"Oh, he's a great guy, and lots of fun. But he's a green rider like me, and that's never works out. A blue and a green is a better match. Or a brown rider, if you can find one that isn't het."

"I didn't think it made such a difference. If you like men, you like men. Isn't that enough?"

D'min laughed aloud. "Oh B'lee, you sweet innocent! No, it isn't enough."

B'lee bristled at being called a "sweet innocent" by a boy four years younger than himself. "Well, spare me the details."

"I could give you a demonstration..."

"No, thank you. I'm content to live in ignorance for the time being."

D'min looked at him speculatively. "Only for the time being? One of these days, B'lee, I'm going to bring you over to the homo side. I just know it."

"Not in this lifetime, you're not."

"We'll see."

They both laughed, and then B'lee had to explain the joke to S'gan, who wandered in with his own Solstice gifts. B'lee handed over another scarf - this one in a dark green - and received a belt in return. With that and the braid he could see that he was going to cut quite a dashing figure at the next gather. He couldn't wait for Spring.


	9. First Fall

_Winter, 36th Turn of the Present Pass_

By the time B'lee and Margroth returned to training in the New Turn, they had started a new phase - passing firesacks. It was a tricky job, throwing sacks of firestone to riders in the middle of a Threadfall, and could be even more dangerous than fighting Thread itself. Most of the time, the weyrleader would identify a suitable replenishing point, and the weyrlings would take the sacks there, but sometimes there was no alternative but to take the sacks directly to the riders.

They practised, as they practised everything these days, to the point of exhaustion. A few of the riders who had picked up the technique easily were recruited for the next Fall. It was going to be a long one, angling down from Telgar through to eastern Tillek, and almost all of it would be in Fort's domain, so re-supply was absolutely vital. Several supply points had been designated close to but just north of the Fall, and the weyrlings would use those as bridging points.

D'min and S'gan were chosen for the job, among others, but B'lee, who had missed so many sevendays, was not. He would merely be flying firesacks to the replenishment point, rather than re-supplying the riders themselves. He wasn't pleased about it, but even he could see that D'min and S'gan were far better at weaving in and out of a group of dragons than he was.

 _I will get better_ , promised Margroth, and B'lee immediately felt guilty for making his dragon feel inadequate.

 _I didn't mean to upset you. I just don't like seeing my friends going into danger when I'm safe on some mountaintop._

They were assigned to resupply 2, 4 and 6 Wings, which would be fighting at the northern part of the leading edge, almost over Crom Hold, while another team took the south side. They assembled their sacks at a designated spot on a ridge a little way north of the Fall and waited for the dragons to come to them. The Fall was a heavy one, and a stiff gusty wind was making it difficult to catch. They started receiving calls to take sacks to the Wing in flight, and B'lee blessed F'neldril's endless drills as he watched D'min and S'gan appearing behind and above their designated dragons and tossed the firesack down to the rider.

It was difficult work, and B'lee felt his heart in his mouth as he watched the leading edge pass in front of him, dragons flaming and his classmates blinking in and out of the wings. It went on for hours, with little opportunity for rest. He wished that he could do more, but all he could do was haul firesacks from the Weyr to the replenishment point, and even that was exhausting after several hours.

The accident happened in the blink of an eye, as the trailing edge approached the coast and everyone started to think about relaxing at the end of the Fall. S'gan was concentrating on the brown in front of him, and forgot to look up. A stray Thread caught Lath across the leading edge of her left wing and she jumped _between_ to kill it, reappearing in the same place a few seconds later - right into the middle of a large clump of Thread that had been sucked into the space she had left. Her screams - and those of S'gan - could be heard by the entire wing before she abruptly disappeared again. A few seconds later, a high-pitched keening sound from the queens' wing below told B'lee that S'gan hadn't been able to direct her jump, and had become lost _between._

It was only the sheerest good fortune that half the weyrlings weren't injured then, as the emotional backlash from their dragons filled their minds and left them unable to concentrate. The queens exerted their rarely-used powers to force the young dragons to jump back to the Weyr, and they appeared, one after the other, in their usual class formation over the heights. All of them, weyrlings and dragons alike, were shaken and pale, and were glad when Leri ordered them to descend to the bowl.

B'lee thought back to the day of Margroth's injury nearly two months ago. He had some idea of the shock that S'gan must have felt when Lath screamed in pain, though of course it must have been far more severe. He could imagine how the pain could overwhelm a rider, how it could be possible to go between without thinking of a destination, and blinked back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes.

F'neldril appeared a minute later, looking as pale as the weyrlings. He conferred with Leri and ordered the weyrlings to assemble in the Hatching Ground. It was a tight fit, with the dragons so large now, but they welcomed the closeness and the warmth of their fellows, even with the sulphurous stench of firestone that still clung to them.

Leri stood on a ledge in the north wall and addressed them. "Weyrlings, attend." Her voice carried easily through the cavern, and B'lee wondered how, before realising that her voice was being relayed through Holth and Margroth to his mind. "This is a tragedy, and it should serve to reinforce the lessons that the weyrlingmaster has been giving you. You _must_ memorise the emergency drills until they become a part of you - until you can act on them without even thinking. If S'gan had thought to jump back to the weyr, he would still be with us - injured, perhaps, but alive. He panicked and jumped without visualising his destination, and so is lost _between_ forever."

She paused and collected her thoughts. "Thread is fickle. It doesn't always move in the ways we expect. What happened to S'gan - when he jumped a beat forward only to find that thread had appeared there - that can happen to anyone. It is not common, but it has been known, as I am sure that the weyrlingmaster has told you. In such a case the pain and shock can be enough to prevent clear thinking. That is why we go through the drills, so that you can do them _without_ thinking!

Her voice softened. "Tonight you will grieve, as all the Weyr will grieve. Tomorrow we will pick up our lives again, and the day after that we will fly Thread over Boll. We are dragonriders, and that is what we do."

F'neldril helped her down from the table, then stood on it himself. "I suggest that you go and clean yourselves up before the rest of the wings return. I expect to see all of you in the main hall for the evening meal, when S'gan will be remembered. After that ... well," he gave a bitter smile, "most of you will need some help getting to sleep, so I will authorise an issue of wine or ale after the meal. Classes will resume after the noonday meal as usual.

* * *

D'min couldn't face dinner. He had scrubbed Aurieth, bathed and then had somehow managed to acquire a full wineskin and dragged B'lee into his weyr. His face was reddened and slightly swollen still, and he didn't want to leave their little haven to go down to the main hall. B'lee, who was only slightly more composed, slipped into the kitchen and talked one of the cooks into letting him have some meatrolls and pastries.

"Here," he said, handing half over to D'min, who was lying on his bed. "You have to eat, even if it's not down there."

"Thanks," said D'min, reaching out for a roll. "I just couldn’t ... "

"I know." B'lee nodded sadly, and sat down on the bed, next to his friend. He leaned back against the rock wall and took a sip of the wine that D'min had poured out. "This is good."

"Hmm. It's not bad. I don't know where it's from, but it'll do."

"Do for what?"

"It'll do to get me very, very drunk."

"You'll feel ill tomorrow."

"At least I'll be alive. Oh, Billee," he cried, leaning forward to rest his head on B'lee's shoulder. "S'gan's gone. He's gone!"

B'lee put his arm around D'min's shoulder and tried to console him. "I know. But we're still here."

"Please stay with me. Please stay, Billee."

"I'll stay, Domin. I'm not going anywhere."

"I can't believe he's gone."

"Hush, now."

D'min nestled further into B'lee's arms and rubbed his cheek on the soft fabric of B'lee's shirt. His hands, which had gone around B'lee's waist, started to move of their own accord - just a small movement, hardly purposeful enough to call a caress, but B'lee felt it acutely. He couldn't say that he found it uncomfortable or unwelcome, though, not tonight. The slow rhythmical movement against his skin was soothing, and he relaxed into the embrace.

"I was so scared out there," he heard D'min whisper.

"So was I," he answered. "I think we all were."

"It wasn't what I'd expected. I thought it would be more ... orderly. Not so frantic. More like the practice sessions."

"F'neldril told us it would be different. Everyone told us it would be different."

"I know. It's just ... I didn’t expect it to come from all directions."

"Updraughts. Turbulence from the dragons' wings. That's what he told us."

D'min nodded against his chest. "Updraughts. I'll remember, next time." He shuddered. "I'm not sure I want to go out there again."

"Me neither. But we're dragonriders now. It's what we do."

"I don't want to die like that. I don't want to burn and scream and go _between._ "

B'lee felt his shoulder blades prickle. He didn't want to die like that either - and he definitely didn't want to think of D'min being scored, or dying. Losing S'gan was bad enough, but if he lost D'min as well, his life would fall apart. "Hush now," he said again. "We're here, we made it through our first fall." He let his own hands move a little, up and down D'min's back, telling himself that the boy needed some comfort, after all, and it felt good to hold a warm body close to his own. He reached for the wineskin and managed to fill D'min's goblet without spilling more than a few drops. "Here, drink some more."

D'min gave a bitter laugh. "Are you trying to get me drunk, Billee-boy?" He gulped down the wine and held out the goblet for more. "Because you know that's not necessary."

Billee felt a qualm of unease at the look in D'min's eyes. "I think you need a bit of sleep. Tomorrow will be better."

"Tomorrow ... tomorrow I could be dead."

"Don't think like that."

"Why not? It's true. Stay with me," he pleaded. "Just stay with me tonight. I don't want to sleep alone."

"I'll stay. You know I will."

"Can't promise to keep my hands off you."

"I think I can defend my honour," he said wryly. "But I don't want to sleep alone tonight either. Too many nightmares in waiting."

D'min set his empty goblet down and threw his arms around B'lee, hugging him tightly. "We'll keep them away together."

They drank the rest of the wineskin, leaning back against the sleeping furs, arms and legs entwined, reminiscing about S'gan and Lath. B'lee had known him for a Turn and a half; D'min since childhood. There were a few tears, and a few laughs, and a lot of warm silences. By the time the wine was finished B'lee lay with D'min's head resting on his chest, and those wonderful hands moving gently over his flanks. So far D'min had been perfectly well-behaved, and B'lee was nearly asleep when he heard D'min whisper, "Oh, Billee, just let me, please ..." and realised that his hands were meandering down B'lee's flanks to his hips and bottom.

B'lee heard himself murmur something, but he had no idea what it was. In fact, he was already half-hard and wasn't at all sure that he wanted D'min to stop. It was just a way of comforting each other, he told himself. They were both upset about S'gan's death and needed the comfort of each other's body to help them sleep. There was nothing more than that in it. It didn't mean they were going to be weyrmates. And he couldn't push D'min away, not tonight.

While B'lee had been trying to justify his inaction, D'min had undone several important buttons and was now sliding his hands right down into B'lee's trousers. B'lee gasped and squirmed as he realised that any second now - oh, now! - D'min was going to take a hold of his cock. It felt amazing - D'min's hands were skilled and strong, and it was all going to be too much for him. His hips bucked forward, and he protested when D'min took his hands away.

D'min quickly undid the buttons of his own trousers and pushed B'lee down on the furs, crawling on top of him and pressing down. There was something he didn't recognise in D'min's eyes - something dark and sad, and he shut his own so he didn't have to see it. He concentrated on the feel of D'min's lithe body against his, their cocks aligned and generating sparks that shivered right through him. He arched and climaxed almost before he knew it, giving two or three sharp thrusts. He opened his eyes in time to see D'min start to thrust frantically, followed by a moment of stillness, then a gasp and collapse. He dropped his head against B'lee's shoulder, panting, and shifted his weight slightly, but didn’t move otherwise. B'lee ran his fingers through the damp curls and over his shoulders. There was no response, and B'lee realised that he had fallen asleep.

Well, that postponed any opportunity to feel awkward about it until the morning. And since B'lee was exhausted himself, he wasted no time in following his friend into oblivion, not even giving a passing thought to the way that D'min fit so comfortably around him.

* * *

D'min must have awoken before B'lee, because when he opened his eyes he was alone in the bed, with the sleeping fur pulled over him to preserve his modesty. A query to Margroth solicited the information that Aurieth and D'min had already gone hunting. _I am hungry, too, after all that flying yesterday_ , the blue added wistfully. _And there's still plenty of time before we have to be at practice._

B'lee sent Margroth to the hunting grounds while he changed his clothing and headed for the bathing pool. He'd missed breakfast, but he wasn't very hungry, and he wanted to catch D'min. They had a lot to discuss.

Down at the lake, D'min hailed him with every indication of friendliness and none of self-consciousness. Aurieth came out of the water and D'min started to inspect her hide for any dry patches. B'lee gave him a hand with the oiling while Margroth was in the water, and then the two of them attended the blue. Once they had two happy dragons oiled and basking in the sun, B'lee started to feel a little awkward again.

"D'min," he started.

"Hmm?"

"About last night..."

"What about it?" D'min asked, his voice cool and his eyes fixed on the horizon.

"Well, I was wondering if it would change things."

"Of course it won't." D'min took a deep breath and turned to face him. "We're still friends, aren't we? It was just a bit of comfort, nothing more than that. We were upset and we drank a lot and played around a bit until we fell asleep. It doesn't mean anything more than that."

"Oh." B'lee bit his lip. "Well, I suppose that's all right, then."

"See? You didn't have to worry." D'min flashed him a brilliant smile and started to pick up the pots of salve.

B'lee watched him as he walked back to the shelter, and wondered why he felt so hollow. They were still friends, and nothing more than friends. Surely that was exactly what he had wanted?

* * *

When they got back to their weyrs after practice that afternoon, there was a strange blue dragon sitting on the ledge of S'gan's weyr, and they could see a drudge sweeping out some dust. B'lee realised at once that the lower caverns staff must have come up to clean the weyr out. It gave him a pang, but he realised that weyrfolk weren't as sentimental about things as Holdfolk were, and there would be a new class of weyrlings needing the space soon.

He couldn't stop himself from walking through to see for himself, though, and found Marta and a couple of drudges shaking out the bedding and sorting S'gan's possessions into several piles. The blue rider turned out to be Z'den, from the class ahead of them and now in 5 Wing, who was recovering from a winter ague and not fit to fly Threadfall yet. B'lee nodded to him, but his attention was claimed by Marta.

"Oh, B'lee, I'm glad you're here," she said with a sad smile. "Do you know if S'gan had any nominated kin for his belongings?"

"No. Well, not that he ever mentioned to me. D'min might know."

"I might know what?" asked D'min, following B'lee in.

"If S'gan had nominated kin?"

"I don't think so - his parents were both dead. He has a half-brother somewhere - I think he went to the Minecrafthall at Crom, but I could be wrong. They weren't close, though."

"Not to worry. There doesn't seem to be much of a personal nature anyway, and the rest will go into store."

B'lee looked around at the chamber, but apart from a few scraps of leather that S'gan had been working on, and the blanket that B'lee had knitted him, all the rest of the gear was general issue.

"Marta?" he began, hesitantly.

"Yes, dear?"

"The blanket there - I knitted that for S'gan. May I take it back?"

"Of course." She handed it to him with a smile. "You'll need it up here, I've no doubt."

"Aye, it can get a little chilly some nights." He took the blanket and folded it carefully. It was just a blanket of knitted squares, such as could be seen in any Hold or Croft in High Reaches, but S'gan had loved it and had proudly displayed it on top of his cot. Now he'd never be warm again, and B'lee felt grief overwhelming him again, and turned away quickly so that Marta wouldn't see the tears in his eyes.

"It's all right to cry, you know," D'min said, softly.

B'lee nodded. "I'll just put this away, then," he muttered, ignoring the slight crack in his voice, and left them to clean up the rooms while he placed the blanket carefully in his chest.

Both D'min and B'lee were quiet that night at dinner, but at least there was no further awkwardness between them. B'lee was thankful for that - he had a suspicion that worse times were ahead of them, and he wanted to make sure that they would be there to help each other.


	10. Aurieth Rising

_Spring, 36th Turn of the Present Pass_

Aurieth's first rising took them all by surprise, coming as it did on a bright spring day a little under two Turns from her Hatching, and two months after S'gan's untimely death.

B'lee was early to breakfast, and had already finished his meal when D'min came in. The first sign he noted was that D'min, who was never very cheerful in the morning,was in a particularly bad mood when he entered the dining hall. More than that - he was in a downright filthy mood. When B'lee mentioned how nice the weather was outside, he was answered with a snarl. When a passing rider knocked against the bench and caused D'min to spill a few drops of his klah, the response was vicious.

B'lee stared in amazement. He'd known D'min for almost two years now, and though he'd seen him lose his temper once or twice, he'd never seen him like this. What on earth could be the matter?

"What's wrong?" he asked softly.

"Nothing." spat D'min, stabbing a slice of cold wherry with his fork as if it were Thread.

"Are you ill?"

"No!"

"Well, you don't seem -"

"And stop being so bloody inquisitive. You're not my mother."

"But -"

"I'm fine! All right? Just leave me alone." He grabbed his mug of klah and stalked off, muttering curses at anyone who came within an arm's-length.

B'lee stared at the retreating figure, absolutely stunned. It was if his friend had turned into a completely different person overnight. He shut his mouth abruptly, realising that he must look like a half-wit, and tried to finish his meal. His appetite had all but gone, though, and he pushed the plate away.

K'lon, a blue rider in 4 Wing and one of D'min's many former lovers, sat down next to B'lee and started to assemble a mighty breakfast. "What's up, B'lee?" he asked. "Someone tickle your arse while you weren't looking?"

B'lee shook his head, as much to clear his thoughts as to deny K'lon's light-hearted question. "No. It's just ... D'min's acting really strangely this morning. I asked how he was and he practically flamed me in my seat. Then he got all moody and stormed off without eating his breakfast." He frowned, anxiously. "I know he's not exactly cheerful in the mornings, but it's not like him to be so ... so ..."

"So much like a woman just before her monthlies?"

"Exactly! Only not, of course."

K'lon snorted. " _Only not, of course_. Hah!" He gave B'lee a light cuff on the ear. "How long have you been in the Weyr? He's proddy, my friend, and you are about to experience at first hand what happens to a green rider when his dragon wants to mate."

"Proddy? But he can't be! I mean _she_ can't be - it's too soon. Aurieth isn't old enough."

"Oh, I don't know, it's what - two years come summer solstice? She's a little early, to be sure, but not all that unusual for a green. Especially not when her rider is so ... hmm ... _enthusiastic_."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely." He grinned, made his breakfast into a sandwich, and got up. "Time to see to Rogeth," he said with a sly grin and a wink to B'lee and strolled off, adjusting his pants as he went.

B'lee stared after him. Aurieth proddy? Oh, this was going to go so very wrong.

* * *

Aurieth was already gone from the weyr when he got back from breakfast. He hurried to get Margroth's riding straps on and took himself to the landing area on the east ridge early, hoping to ask F'neldril for his advice, but he was too late. Any hope he had that K'lon might have been mistaken in his assumption was dashed as soon as he reached the ridge and found his friend and the Weyrlingmaster standing toe to toe. D'min was red-faced and held his fists clenched tightly at his side. The snarl from breakfast looked like it had been etched permanently into his features. Had he been arguing with F'neldril?

"Ah, B'lee," said F'neldril, urbanely. "Good. I was just explaining to D'min here that Aurieth will probably rise today. He needs to take her away from the Weyr. I don't suppose Margroth would ...?" He looked expectantly at B'lee for a moment before saying, resignedly, "No, I suppose not."

"I think K'lon might," suggested B'lee with a little hesitation, remembering the way the blue rider had left the breakfast table.

"Would K'lon and Rogeth be acceptable?" F'neldril asked, kindly, and D'min nodded abruptly.

F'neldril looked into the distance for a minute, the blank stare indicating that he was talking with Mnanth - probably asking him to tell Rogeth to bring K'lon.

A few of the other trainees appeared, and one or two of the dragons twitched a little as they caught Aurieth's scent. None of them flared up, though, and B'lee realised that they were still too immature to react to her condition. Even Margroth felt slightly bored with the whole matter, merely asking B'lee if they were going to practise more fire drills. _I don't think so, love_ , he replied absently. _Not today_.

Rogeth appeared on the heights, landing with an elegant - and completely unnecessary - flourish about two dragonlengths away. K'lon appeared to have used his early warning to some effect, for there was a carrying net tied to the riding straps, and B'lee could see that it contained a brightly-coloured blanket and a small sack which probably contained food and drink. He felt somewhat relieved to know that K'lon was taking the time to make the ordeal as easy as possible for his friend.

K'lon slid down from his perch and walked up to the little group of riders. He nodded a greeting to F'neldril but went straight to D'min, saying, "Rogeth is willing if Aurieth will have him, and if you will have me."

D'min gave him a bleak smile and nodded. "Thanks."

K'lon smiled back, and B'lee was relieved to see that his expression was sympathetic rather than mocking or lascivious. "Don't worry about Aurieth. It can be a little overwhelming, you know, but everything will be fine. I promise you that. Come on, call her and let's go."

They walked off together, K'lon continuing to talk to D'min in a low voice and putting an arm loosely around his shoulder. Whatever he was saying, it had the effect of calming D'min and B'lee breathed a sigh of relief as the riders mounted their dragons and flew off towards the coast.

"Right, now, lads," said F'neldril. "Let's get back to the day's _planned_ activities."

* * *

D'min didn't return until sundown, and after waiting a couple of minutes for him to appear, B'lee went to his friend's weyr, carrying some food which he'd brought back from the dining hall.

"D'min?" he called. "May I come in?"

"Sure," replied D'min, wearily.

When B'lee entered the bedchamber, D'min was stretched out on the sleeping furs, his hands behind his head. His clothes were rumpled, but there was no other indication that his day had been the least bit unusual.

"I brought you something to eat. I wasn't sure if you'd had dinner or not."

"Oh, thanks." He grabbed the food and starting eating. "Mmm. This is good - I'm starving."

"So how did it go?"

D'min raised an eyebrow and gave B'lee a curious stare. "Do you really want to know all the details?"

B'lee swallowed. "Well, no, actually. I just wondered if you were all right. I thought ... well, I hoped that K'lon treated you well."

D'min's face softened. "Yes, he did. It was a bit strange, though - it's a lot more intense when it's your own dragon, and I didn't expect that. But he was really good. I'm glad I was with someone I knew, and not a total stranger." He shuddered. "I'd hate to be a gold rider and have to do that in an open flight."

B'lee thought about that and had to agree with D'min - the thought of being taken by anyone who flew his dragon was not one he cared to dwell on. "I wonder if they tell the girls that, when they're Searched."

"Not likely. Only once they've impressed and can't get away. There are stories about queen riders - the Hold-bred girls - who've gone insane after their queen's first flight. Or they've never allowed her to rise again."

"Is that true?"

D'min shrugged. "Only what I've heard."

"Bizarre."

D'min finished his food and lounged back on the bed. "So how was the day without me?"

"Long. Tiring. Quiet."

D'min smirked, and B'lee was forced to add, "And not nearly as much fun without your running commentary."

D'min laughed. "I knew you'd miss me." He finished the meal and set the plate aside. "Anything interesting happen?"

B'lee groaned. "Margroth almost got flamed by Mallorth again. I swear he projects flame further every week."

"Shells, I really hope I don't end up in the same Wing. I mean, B'ret's pretty decent for a bronze rider, but Mallorth needs another five Turns just to grow into himself."

"He'll be brilliant once he's done growing, though."

"Yeah ..." D'min's voice trailed off. "I wonder how long it'll be before B'ret's Weyrleader."

"You think that too?" asked B'lee. "I've felt it for a while now."

"Bloody bronzes."

"Jealous?"

"No. Yes. Oh, I don't know."

B'lee smiled. "Well, that's informative."

"I don't want to be Weyrleader, if that's what you mean, especially Fort Weyrleader. Trying to get the Weyrs and Holds to work together is impossible. But I hate the way that people look at Aurieth, or my shoulder knots, and I can see them thinking, 'Oh, it's just another green rider, no one important'."

"They'd be lost without the greens."

"I know that, and you know that, but they only see the bronzes. It's like all those ballads we were talking about back in the barracks. Golds and bronzes - they're the only ones who get remembered."

"I told you I'd write _The Ballad of Margroth and Aurieth_ one day."

"I'm looking forward to it!' He sighed, and slumped down again. "But we have to do something you can write about first."

"Hmm. I don't suppose that a routine training flight would count?"

"I don't think so. We'd have to do something heroic, like rescuing the Weyrwoman, or a Lord Holder's daughter." D'min settled back on his bed, smiling up at B'lee.

"Hmm. I don’t see that happening in the near future. Leri's quite capable of rescuing herself from anything Pern can throw at her, and Lord Tolocamp has so many daughters I doubt he'd even notice one was missing!"

They laughed, and B'lee was glad that nothing fundamental had changed. D'min was still the same cheeky lad with the attractive face and eyes that reminded him of the ocean. "So are you and K'lon going to be together for a while, do you think?" he asked.

D'min laughed. "No, silly. It was just a favour. K'lon's seeing someone at Telgar now, I think."

"Oh. I thought ... well, he's very attractive. If you like that sort of thing."

"Oh, he is," D'min agreed, smiling broadly. "Totally delicious in all the right places. But we had our fling last summer - when I was finally allowed out on my own! - and it was only for a couple of months. I'm not ready to settle down with anyone yet. Not for a long time."

"Oh." And B'lee really wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

As he walked down the corridor back to his own weyr, he wondered if he should ask Margroth to thank Rogeth for his part in making the day tolerable for D'min, but Margroth merely snorted and rumbled as he settled more securely into his weyr. _That one is already too smug_.

 _Maybe_ , he replied, _but at least D'min and Aurieth are all right. That's the important thing_.

B'lee sighed. He wondered what he would have done had Margroth given any indication that he was interested. Could he have allowed the blue to fly Aurieth, knowing that he would end up in bed with his friend? Would they have had the opportunity to arrange alternate partners? Or would D'min have viewed that as cheating?

Luckily for his peace of mind, they weren't questions he had to answer today - or ever, if he were really fortunate.

* * *

D'min appeared at breakfast the next morning with just the same cheerful, nonchalant manner he'd always had, as if the previous day had never happened. K'lon had already eaten and was heading out to see to Rogeth as D'min walked in, and B'lee could see that although they smiled at each other, there was no indication that any lasting attachment had been made.

D'min had obviously been right when he said that those in the Weyr were used to such things.

It still didn't feel right to B'lee.

* * *

One thing did change after that, though: B'lee himself became a lot more aware of the undercurrents of sexuality in the Weyr. It wasn't that he'd been ignorant of it before but it had never seemed particularly relevant to him; it had always been something that happened to other people.

Now he saw it all around him, between green and blue rider, between riders and caverns staff, old and young, comely and plain. There was flirting in the dimmer sections of the corridors; there were teasing glances exchanged over the tables and not-quite casual touches in the dining hall - it was everywhere.

B'lee sighed. It was everywhere he looked ... except around him. He tried once more with the lower caverns women, but although his smile got him a pleasant tumble or two, he really couldn't find any of them worth more than a casual fling. He wanted to find the One, the one woman who would make it all worth while, the one he would want to share his weyr with, the one who would make his life complete.

He knew she must be out there somewhere, but he was starting to think he'd never find her. Not in the current occupants of the Weyr, at any rate. He needed to looked further afield, so he probably wouldn't find her while he was confined to the Weyr, but maybe later on, when he was a rider. He'd have a lot more freedom to move around between falls, then - he'd be able to go to gathers all over the continent, visit Crafthalls and Holds, and meet a lot of people. He might even end up on Search, if Margroth proved as sensitive as Salteth had been two years ago. Surely he could search for himself as well as for the Weyr? Surely there was someone out there for him?

He wanted a lover. He wanted someone who would be companion and friend and confidant, and he didn't think he'd get that from any of the Weyr girls he'd met so far.

He looked at the bulge in his trousers and wondered if he should seek out Surina and take the edge off his frustration. He'd settle for sex, like any man, but he really wanted love, even if he had to wait for it. The problem was, he was beginning to wonder if it would be worth the wait.

* * *

A few nights after Aurieth rose, he woke to find the sheets sticky with his emissions. He groaned, looking at the mess and wondering if he'd have to explain it to the drudges who collected his laundry. It hadn't happened since he'd left the Weyrling Barracks and had been able to wank in the privacy of his own weyr, and he wondered why it had happened now; what had got him so charged up that he was having wet dreams.

He tried to work out what the dream had been about, but it was elusive. There had been warmth, though, and a feeling of being loved. Even if he couldn't remember the details, he knew it had been a very good dream.

He rolled over and tried to find that warmth again.

* * *

It was about halfway through the fourth month, well into spring, when it became clear that Ilith, one of the junior queens, was about to clutch. She no longer flew, but waddled across the Weyr bowl to bathe in the caldera lake or inspect the Hatching Ground. Clioth, her mate, brought her food and hovered protectively, even when her rider, Lidora, came over to help oil her massive, egg-swollen belly.

It had been a good, high flight, and there was much speculation on how big the clutch would be. After all, Clioth had flown Orlith two years ago and that clutch had been 31 eggs - a good size for so late in a Pass. Bets were laid on the total, the number of bronzes and whether or not there would be a queen egg. One of the Tradecraftsmen ran the book, and B'lee couldn't believe the amount of money that was being laid out. He had no wish to spend the few spare marks he had on gambling, but many others did, and he had to endure many hours of discussion on the various omens and indications that riders and weyrfolk quoted to back up their guesses.

One of the hottest topics was the possibility of a queen egg. Since Fort already had four queens, B'lee couldn't see that it was a high priority, but there were always doomsayers to predict disaster if the Weyr didn't have the maximum number of golds.

"Honestly, you'd think we're all about to die," complained D'min. "Sure, we're not quite up to full strength, but the last thing we need is too many queens."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Depends on how well they're kept under control. It's not easy - every time one of them gets proddy, all the others have to be sent away to prevent any accidents. If one of the other golds is close to rising herself, you can get fights between them, and no one wants that. There's a story that two queens killed each other during the last Pass because one wasn't taken far enough away. And the more queens you have, the more likely they are to get proddy anyway, and the more disruption there is for everyone. Leri and Holth are pretty good, though, and Moreta's done really well for having come to Fort so recently."

"She's good with the dragons. I suppose that's the healer training."

"I suppose so."

B'lee was running through the queenrider lists in his head, but he couldn't think of any Weyr that had less than three queens at the moment - most of them had four or five. "All the Weyrs have queens enough, I think," he said.

D'min nodded. "Even if we lose a couple to accidents, we only need about one gold egg every ten Turns. And with the end of the Pass due in another fifteen Turns or so, we could get by on what we have now."

"End of the Pass," repeated B'lee, softly. It wasn't something he'd thought of before. "I'll only be thirty-five when it ends."

"Poor old man," teased D'min. "I'll only be ... hmm ... thirty-one."

"What do dragonriders do during the Intervals?"

"Whatever we like," replied D'min, promptly.

"Somehow, I don't think that's true," B'lee looked at him suspiciously.

"Well, not quite true, perhaps. I don't actually know. I'm sure that L'mal and Leri will work it all out. We'll still have to fly - even if it's just transport flights."

"We could go exploring, perhaps."

"Where?"

"The mountains north of Telgar."

D'min shivered. "Not fardling likely! I was thinking maybe the southern continent."

"But we can't! I mean, no one can live there - that's why they had the Crossing."

D'min shrugged. "The Crossing was a long time ago. Places change. It could well be inhabitable once it's had a chance to get over Thread. And it's got to be warmer than Telgar!"

"You're just thin-blooded."

"That's why I have you to keep me warm," he said, wrapping his arms around B'lee and batting his eyelashes.

B'lee laughed, but pushed D'min away gently. "You've got a Weyr full of blue riders to keep you warm. You don't need me."

D'min laughed, and said, "But none of them have your pretty green eyes!" He didn't push the issue, though, just leaned back and smiled.

B'lee smiled back, gratefully. He didn't mind a bit of teasing from time to time, but he still thought occasionally that D'min took things a little too far for comfort.

* * *

As if to prove D'min right, Orlith rose unexpectedly five days later. With Ilith about to clutch and unable to leave, this could have been difficult, but luckily a bellyful of eggs and Clioth's assurance that he would stay with her made her complacent, and she merely hissed as Orlith, a vibrant gold, rose to her haunches on her weyr ledge. Lidora controlled her long enough for Moreta to send Orlith out to blood her kill, and the other queens went to High Reaches for the day.

This time B'lee felt the oddness in the air and a twitchiness between his shoulder blades. It seemed that everyone was on edge, and he was glad that his watchdragon duties kept him isolated on the rim for the day. He was able to watch Orlith blood two herdbeasts and take off into the sky, pursued by a dozen bronzes, but lost sight of her long before the mating flight was concluded.

As was usually the case when a queen rose, the spillover of emotion affected a large percentage of the Weyr. Tempers frayed and a certain amount of crockery was broken, but there were no all-out fights, as had been known occasionally. Most of the riders managed to find mates to their taste, and there were several absences from the dinner tables.

It may have been a residual effect of Orlith's mating that led D'min to proposition B'lee that night, something he hadn't done seriously in quite a while - not since that odd night they'd spent together after S'gan's death.

B'lee's watch had earned him the right to attend the second sitting of dinner, and he sat over his ale afterwards, listening to Willan play a few songs and happy that no one was asking him to move. He was tired after a day doing almost nothing except look at the horizon, and not inclined to an additional exertion. D'min had slipped in to join him, managing to scrounge another dessert and more than a few ales, and was leaning against him while listening to the music - something he did quite often when he got the chance. His left hand had dropped to B'lee's thigh, and he was gently stroking the flesh in time to the music.

"Stop that," muttered B'lee, and pushed D'min's hand back onto his own leg.

A couple of minutes later, D'min's hand was back on B'lee's leg. He pushed it away again, and this time it stayed away. Perversely, B'lee missed the touch.

As they climbed the stairs that led to their weyrs, D'min was behind him, and B'lee realised that this had been a tactical error when D'min said, "Have I mentioned lately that you have a cute arse?"

"Yes. And stop looking at it," said B'lee as they reached the corridor that connected their chambers.

"Why? It's a very nice arse."

"Don't."

"Come on, you know you enjoy it."

"No, I don't."

"Why don't you let me show you how good it can be? I could make it so good for you," he murmured, trying to nuzzle B'lee's ear.

B'lee pulled away.

"Just leave it, D'min. I like girls, not boys. Stop trying to seduce me."

"You want to be seduced."

"No, I don't."

D'min looked into his eyes, and B'lee almost shivered. D'min's eyes looked almost green in the yellowish light of the glow-basket, and his pupils were enormous.

"Won't you let me?" he asked softly, his hand caressing B'lee's shoulder, his face leaning in close until his lips were so close that B'lee could feel D'min's breath on his skin.

B'lee felt something odd happening in his middle, and almost leaned forward to touch his lips to D'min's. Then some voices drifted up from the corridor behind them, and B'lee pulled back and turned away.

"Don't do this, D'min. You know I like girls."

D'min made a face but allowed B'lee to move. "Never said you didn't. Just thought you might like boys as well. You've been here long enough to get used to it."

"It's not for me, D'min," said B'lee, firmly.

D'min shrugged and allowed B'lee to return to his own weyr without any further attempt on his body. B'lee told himself he wasn't disappointed. No, really he wasn't.

* * *

B'lee woke in a sweat, his body sticky with the residues of his dream. He looked at the mess on his stomach and wearily got up to find a cloth.

Wet dreams were becoming more frequent for him, something he wasn't exactly pleased about. He was a normal red-blooded man, after all, and would much prefer to be lying with someone in reality rather than just in his dreams, but he was still having difficulty in finding any girl that really caught his fancy.

There was something different about this dream, he realised, something tugging at the outskirts of his consciousness that he couldn't quite grasp. It was like trying to catch a fish in his hands - the more he tried to focus on what it was that bothered him, the more it slipped away.

He stood naked in the middle of his bedchamber for several minutes, but the dream continued to elude him. He sighed and threw the soiled cloth onto the pile of clothes that needed washing. It probably wasn't important, anyway.


	11. Riders' Knots

_Spring, 36th Turn of the Present Pass_

The final phase of their training was to fly formations with the wings. They didn't fly Thread, but they did the training flights and the pre-thread formations, rotating through all twelve wings. As F'neldril told them, it was practice for their dragons to get used to flying with different groups and to take orders from any leader, not just the familiar weyrlingmaster.

By this stage, F'neldril had already identified the dragons and/or riders who weren't ready to progress. The very youngest, like H'rellan, had been held back the year before; now it was time for the more clumsy or immature to be held back, for their own safety. B'lee suspected that B'ret was one from the dejected way the boy came into the dining hall one evening. It wasn't the boy's fault - he was a bright, intelligent youth - but Mallorth simply couldn't control his flame projection, even after months of practice. Even if F'neldril had allowed him to progress, B'lee didn't think there was a wingleader who'd accept him yet.

He found himself discussing it with D'min that night.

"I think you're right," said D'min, face down on the bed, his feet kicking patterns in the air. "B'ret's OK, but Mallorth just needs a bit more time." He sighed. "Bronzes do, sometimes."

"Well, there's a lot of dragon to coordinate."

"True. Another disadvantage of size. Aurieth, now, has always been well-coordinated."

B'lee had to agree with that - from the very first day Aurieth had been dainty and graceful, never falling on her face or landing on her tail. "And Margroth?" he asked, teasingly.

"Margroth isn't bad either, for a blue," added D'min in a rather condescending tone, and laughed when B'lee threw a pillow at him.

"He's the best blue ever!"

"Ow! I never said he wasn't!"

"Good. He is the perfect dragon, and you'd better not forget it."

"Perfect _blue_ dragon."

"At least he has the advantage of not turning proddy at a moment's notice."

"Hey!" D'min threw the pillow back at B'lee. "It was her first time!"

"There'll be others."

"Well, of course there will. And this time I'll know how to deal with them."

B'lee laughed. "With all your experience, I have no doubt about that."

* * *

Five days after the Hatching of Ilith's clutch, all the remaining dragons in B'lee's class were posted to the fighting wings. The class assembled in the Council Room after the noonday meal, where F'neldril was waiting with L'mal, the Fort Weyrleader, and all the wingleaders. Everyone looked happy, which B'lee took as a good omen.

L'mal held up a scroll. "So, lads, you've come to the end of two Turns of intensive training. You've done very well, and we're all very proud of you. I have had excellent reports from the weyrlingmaster, and I believe that you are all ready to join the wings."

He paused, and became more serious. "I know that the loss of Lath and S'gan was a blow, and it is a great sadness that they are not with us now. However, we're all riders here, and many of us are lost to Thread. It doesn't stop us fighting!" His expression was fierce, and B'lee wondered how many of his own friends had been lost to Thread over the years.

"Now, I imagine that some of you will be pleased with today's postings, and some won't. I stress that there is no difference in the wings - they are all essential to the Weyr, and are equal in my eyes. I will tolerate no fighting or unseemly rivalry between my Wings, and anyone who thinks that I'm joking will soon find out otherwise. Thread is our enemy, and it's the only enemy that counts during a Pass."

He started to read out the postings for 1 Wing, and there were triumphant smiles as each dragon was placed. B'lee crossed his fingers surreptitiously. He didn't really mind which wing he joined as long as he and D'min were posted together. In spite of L'mal's stern words, there was a certain amount of tension among the wings at the best of times, and he really didn't want to be treating D'min as a rival.

The postings weren't evenly spread, as some wings were more understrength than others, and the allocation of weyrlings was designed to remediate the gaps. B'lee knew that 4 and 5 Wings had the most vacancies at the moment, and therefore were the most likely places for a good strong blue like Margroth to be posted - but D'min's father, D'ran, was the wingsecond, and L'mal never placed father and son into the same wing. If B'lee were posted to 5 Wing, he definitely wouldn't be working with D'min. He bit his lip as the postings to 2 and 3 Wings were read, growing more and more anxious by the minute.

"4 wing: Gamenth and F'ril; Margroth and B'lee; Filth and J'loran ..." He paused, and B'lee's heart sank right down to the bottom of his boots. He turned to look at D'min, knowing that his face would be showing every bit of his anguish. "...and Aurieth and D'min."

B'lee felt so relieved that he was almost giddy. He gave a broad smile and embraced D'min warmly. From the way in which D'min's arms tightened around him, he guessed that D'min was also pleased and relieved that they would still be together.

He didn't hear the rest of the postings, but he wasn't worried - he'd catch up later, in the dining hall. For now he was just content to know that he and D'min would continue to be side by side as they had been since the moment B'lee had arrived at the Weyr two long Turns ago.

As soon as the last name had been read out, the newly-posted riders greeted their wingleaders and seconds. The leader of 4 wing was S'peren, (bronze Clioth), and the wingsecond was P'tan (bronze Zeth). B'lee and D'min knew them by sight, of course, but they hadn't spoken to them much before.

"Welcome to 4 Wing," said S'peren, with a smile. "In spite of what our beloved leader says, we are well aware that 4 Wing is the best in the Weyr, and woe betide anyone who says otherwise!" He chuckled to emphasise the semi-serious nature of his comment. "Now, we have Threadfall in two days, so tomorrow we'll take you up with the wing and make sure that you understand the way we fly, and get your dragons used to taking orders from Clioth. Make sure that your dragons eat well tomorrow as soon as practice is finished. You don't want them going pale from hunger in the middle of a fall, believe me! J'loran, D'min - as it's expected to be a short Fall, I'm going to start you both with the wing, but I want you to let me or P'tan know if Filth or Aurieth is getting tired. I mean that, lads," he added, sternly. "There's no shame in taking them out of the formation if they are tired, and I would much rather have you sitting out for half a Fall than sitting in the infirmary for a few sevendays because you got scored. Do you understand?"

"Yes, wingleader," they replied, in voices that were considerably more subdued than normal.

"F'ril, B'lee, the same goes for you. I don't anticipate that either of you will have problems, simply because it is a short Fall, but if you're getting tired, for Faranth's sake, let us know."

"Yes, wingleader," said B'lee, with F'ril echoing him.

"The Wing will leave for formation practice after breakfast tomorrow. Make sure you're ready on the rim with all your gear. If I have to wait for you I will not be pleased. Understood?"

"Yes, wingleader."

"Now, don't forget to collect your cords from the table before you leave. You'll be dining with the wing tonight, and I expect you to be wearing your new knots."

Before they left, B'lee nudged D'min to make sure that he spoke to his father. He noted, approvingly, that D'ran seemed to be very proud of D'min's posting to 4 Wing, first clapping him on the shoulder and then giving him a hug. "It's a good wing, that, and S'peren's a very promising wingleader. Do as you're told and you'll have no problems there."

"I'll do that. Thanks."

"Don't thank me, son. I didn't do anything. No one gets to be a dragonrider except on their own merits. You did this all yourself, and I'm proud of you."

D'min smiled so broadly that B'lee almost though he was going to split his face in two.

"And don't forget -"

"- to go and show my mother!" finished D'min with a grin. "I will, father. I'll go right now. Come on B'lee."

They picked up the lengths of cord they would need to make their new rider's knots and hurried out of the Council Room.

"Great! We'll still be doing things together!" exclaimed B'lee, as they hurried down the corridor.

D'min smiled back warmly. "Well, they couldn’t let you go on your own, could they? Have to make sure someone looks after you." He jumped back to avoid the punch that B'lee pretended to throw, and smirked. "Is that your best effort, O Great Blue Rider?"

B'lee laughed and pulled D'min into a headlock before releasing him. They bounced down the passage towards the stairs that led to the weaving room.

Tamina, as expected, was overjoyed to hear the news, and hugged them both. "I'm so proud of you, D'min!" she exclaimed. "I knew you'd make it through. And of you, too, B'lee. You're like a fosterling to me anyway."

B'lee smiled and gave her a warm hug back. "Thanks, Tamina."

"So, both of you in 4 Wing! Poor S'peren. Didn't anyone let him know what he was in for?"

D'min pretended to be insulted. "Honestly, anyone would think we were trouble!"

She laughed. "Aren't you?"

"Not in the least! We're just high-spirited," put in B'lee.

"Exactly. High-spirited," D'min nodded briskly.

"Well, I think you should take your high spirits and get those cords done if you want to wear them to dinner."

"I don't suppose ..." D'min started, but Tamina shook her head.

"Riders' knots are made by riders."

"I knew you wouldn't," he sighed.

"Go one, both of you. And don't forget I'm here, now that you're in the Wing. I know you'll be busy, but Thread doesn't fall every day."

"I won't forget," said D'min.

"I won't let him forget," said B'lee, smiling, and gave her another hug before they left the room. He turned towards the back stairs, but D'min headed the other way. "Dragons or stairs?" he asked.

"We're dragonriders, my friend, we're going up in style," said D'min, and B'lee gathered that he'd already called Aurieth down. He put in his own request for Margroth, and soon the two dragons were descending into the bowl, landing as close to the young men as they could.

B'lee and D'min scrambled onto the dragons' necks as fast as they could, and held on tightly as they rose into the air. There wasn't much risk really - they could trust Aurieth and Margroth not to bank too steeply when neither of them had riding straps on - but it was still exhilarating to fly up holding on only with knees and hands.

As soon as he had slid off Margroth's neck onto the ledge, he took his cords around to D'min's weyr, and they spent the next hour in making their rider's knots as neat and precise as they possibly could. B'lee's still ended up the better of the two, but D'min's was very close. With some pride, they took it in turns to take off the weyrling's knot and attach the rider's knot to each other's tunic.

B'lee stood back and looked at his friend, who was positively glowing with happiness. "Congratulations, D'min," he said, softly. "You're a proper dragonrider now."

"So are you," said D'min, and slid his arms around B'lee's waist. "We're both dragonriders."

"We are." He leaned back a little to catch D'min's eye. "You're not going to kiss me, are you?"

"No. Just a hug."

"That's all right." He relaxed a little and allowed D'min to hug him. He didn't mind hugs - they were warm and comforting. In fact, he was feeling so pleased with the world that he wouldn't really have minded if D'min had tried to kiss him.

* * *

The next morning they were up early and were waiting on the rim with the rest of 4 Wing in plenty of time to get ready for the practice flight.

It was a glorious day - sunshine and fresh breezes - and as B'lee looked down from his position at the rear of the wing, he thought that there could be no greater happiness than this. He caught D'min's eye and they shared a smile at the thought that they had finally made it to the Wing after so long in training.

They flew various formations - nothing they hadn't done before as weyrlings, but this time they were expected to bank and move _between_ with much greater precision. They had to accept orders from the wingleader and his second, and their dragons had to recognise landmarks sent to them from Clioth and Zeth.

It was exhilarating stuff, and they were both tired but happy as they stripped the riding straps from Aurieth and Margroth that afternoon.

"Good work, lads," said S'peren. "Now, don't go celebrating too soon. We've Threadfall tomorrow, and I expect you to be up at the fireheights at second hour to stoke your dragons. I want you all to get a good night's sleep and be well-rested for tomorrow. It may be a short Fall, but the first one is always exhausting, and I don't want you making mistakes. Understand?"

"Yes, wingleader," they said in chorus, and hurried to clean themselves up before dinner.

The next day they were up early, and had their dragons fitted out and up on the fireheights chewing firestone in good time. S'peren gave them an encouraging nod, and they readied themselves for the start.

B'lee's mouth was dry, and he swallowed, hoping that he would feel better about it soon. He'd been training for this moment for two years, he reminded himself. He wouldn't be here if the Weyrlingmaster and the Weyrleader didn't think him up to it. They had confidence in him - he ought to have some in himself, and in Margroth.

The wings took off in order, each hovering over the Weyr and then blinking out of sight. Margroth took the order from Clioth, and rose with the rest of 4 Wing. B'lee looked over to where Aurieth and D'min were soaring into the sky, and hoped that all would go well for them. Aurieth was valiant and quick, but she tired much more easily than Margroth, and he couldn't help worrying that she would exhaust herself trying to show she could fight as long as the larger dragons.

 _Keep an eye on her if you can_ , he asked Margroth. _I don't want her to take any unnecessary risks._

 _You worry too much. She is more sensible than her rider._

B'lee laughed in agreement, and suddenly felt much better ... though he was glad that D'min hadn't heard, since he knew only too well Margroth's normal opinion of Aurieth.

They emerged from between some way south of the Weyr. They could already see the cloudy leading edge to the north-east, and Clioth relayed last-minute orders as they got themselves ready.

That first Threadfall was one of the most frightening experiences B'lee had ever had, and for years afterwards it remained the standard by which he judged any other. They tried to stay ahead of the leading edge, but too often it crept up over them and they had to jump backwards. The dragons, with their bulbous composite eyes, had almost a spherical visual field, but were still liable to miss anything coming from directly overhead, and his neck ached from checking the sky above and behind them for any danger.

Fighting Thread was like an intricate dance, in some ways. The bronzes and brown flamed the highest, trying to char as much of the falling Thread as they could. Blues like Margroth filled in the gaps, while the greens caught the Threads that slipped through the higher levels. They flew and banked and weaved in and out of the deadly rain with skill and grace, and the grounds beneath them were kept safe from harm.

Even though it was a short Fall, B'lee found it exhausting. Never before had he had to concentrate so hard for so long without any breaks. As the trailing edge crossed the western coast of the peninsula and Clioth gave the all-clear, he felt Margroth sag.

 _You're tired too_ , he said, concerned.

 _I will be better after restin_ g.

 _We all will_.

S'peren had Clioth interrogate the new dragons, and promptly sent the youngsters back to the Weyr, telling them to get some food and then rest.

Aurieth and Margroth glided down to dispose of the firestone ash and then hauled themselves up to the weyrs. B'lee and D'min stripped off the riding straps and left them to sleep, while they went in search of some food. They were astonished to find out that it was still early afternoon, only just after lunch, in fact. B'lee felt as if he'd worked more than a full day already, and D'min was pale where his face wasn't streaked with dust and soot.

Seglinder, the head cook, came out to see what all the commotion was about, but his ill-temper dissipated on seeing the exhausted young riders. He stomped back to his kitchen and sent out a couple of drudges with bowls of stew and loaves of fresh bread, and a large jug of hot klah.

Once they'd fed, the world started to right itself. B'lee didn't feel quite so drained, and he and D'min were able to manage the stairs back up to their weyrs. He didn't protest when D'min followed him into his own weyr, nor when D'min flopped down on the bed beside him.

"You'd better not be planning anything," he muttered.

"Only sleep," mumbled D'min as he snuggled up to B'lee's warmth. "But if you don't throw me out of bed I'll give you a backrub later."

"Fine," he said, as he fell asleep, his arm somehow winding around D'min's shoulders. A backrub sounded very tempting.

* * *

Over the next few sevendays B'lee caught himself watching the blue and green riders at mealtimes, in planning sessions, in caring for their dragons. It seemed that no matter what they did, there was teasing and flirting and laughter and occasionally a tantrum or two, but overall a close camaraderie that B'lee couldn't see in the bronze and brown riders. Even those blue riders he knew to be hetero weren't averse to a bit of teasing now and again. Green riders were openly affectionate, and weren't shy about kissing or fondling their current lovers in full view of the Wings. Everyone was a lot more relaxed when there were no goldriders or weyrlings present, and much of the normal conversation was rife with innuendo. Sexuality was simply a normal part of life, and the riders saw no reason to be prudish in the confines of their own Weyr.

B'lee was astonished, though he told himself he shouldn't be. How could he have lived in the Weyr for two years and not have seen it so clearly?

Why was he seeing it now?

He shook his head. It even affected the way he looked at D'min. Previously he had never really worried about seeing D'min with his lovers, but now, as he was looking at D'min leaning back against G'lin (a blue rider from 9 wing, several inches taller than D'min and darkly handsome) he felt a distinct sense of annoyance. It really wasn't fair that D'min should have no difficulty in attracting lovers, when B'lee couldn't find a girl for himself. And it was definitely not fair for D'min to be teasing and caressing his new lover in front of everyone like that. It made him feel very uncomfortable.

* * *

One of the things that B'lee liked the most about being a fully-fledged rider was that he was able to sit in the hall in the evenings after dinner and join in the singing and playing. There were a few players in the Weyr, but not many, so the arrival of a rider who could play all the instruments and who had a clear sweet tenor voice besides was most welcome.

Although at the Harperhall he had never walked the tables and remained technically an apprentice, he had completed all the projects and assignments necessary for advancement, and he had Master Tirone's own word for it that he would have been selected for journeyman at the following solstice had he remained in the Harperhall. He could play the pipes, drum and harp, but his preferred instrument was the gitar, and he knew not only all the popular tunes and ballads, but (now that he could practise to his heart's content) also some of the more complex works for solo gitar or consorts. Since Willan preferred the harp, this led to several duets between them, to the delight of their audience.

D'min was visibly astonished the first time he heard B'lee play with Willan. B'lee had never played much for the weyrlings while they were in barracks, only the occasional duty ballad or dance tune, and he'd taken care to practise his part when D'min was safely elsewhere, so the contrapuntal piece they played was a revelation. B'lee took secret delight in having surprised his friend, and felt a warmth go through him at the look of admiration in D'min's eyes.

It was almost disappointing when D'min left with G'lin instead of walking up to the weyrs with him.

* * *

The day after the summer solstice, the weyrling class behind them (from Holth's clutch the Turn before), moved into weyrs. B'lee and D'min found that they had two new neighbours, both green riders: J'gonal and H'tan. They were good-looking boys, and seemed very much in awe of their elders.

"Which is as it should be," said D'min with a superior air when B'lee mentioned it. "We are, after all, their betters in every way."

"Except in modesty, of course," teased B'lee.

"Pah! It's over-rated."

B'lee laughed.

It was odd to watch the weyrlings and to realise that they had been at the same stage of training only a Turn ago. The boys seemed so young, so unaware of the menace all around them. When B'lee tried to explain it to D'min he got all tangled up in his words.

D'min, as usual, cut to the heart of the matter. "They haven't lost a classmate yet," he said, bluntly. "We were the same, before S'gan died." His face darkened with the shadows of grief, grief that they still felt nearly half a Turn after their friend's death during Threadfall.

D'min hugged B'lee tightly, burying his head in the hollow between shoulder and neck. "Don't you ever die on me, B'lee," he muttered, fiercely. "I couldn't go on. I just couldn't."

"I'm not going anywhere," B'lee affirmed. He held onto D'min, letting himself enjoy the embrace. He hoped that nothing would happen to D'min either - life just wouldn't be the same without his jokes and smiles and absurdities.

* * *

B'lee continued to have vivid dreams. He was still having difficulty in seeing the face of his dream lover, but he knew something now that he hadn't before: it was a man.

This fact had troubled him initially, but somehow the intervening weeks of training and integrating with the wings had made him see things a little differently. He shook his head in amazement when he thought back to the way he had reacted when D'min had told him about green and blue riders, back in the first months after Impression. Now, he could see no difference between taking a man to bed and taking a woman - it was simply whoever you were in love with at the time.

Did that mean that he was in love with a man? He didn't think so. Could he be in love and not know it?

"Hey, D'min," he said one night, hoping to raise the subject in a vague, non-threatening way, "when did you realise that you liked boys more than girls?"

D'min looked up from his loom. "Odd question for this time of day, B'lee."

B'lee shrugged, as if it weren't important at all. "Just curious."

D'min thought about it for a minute, but ended up shaking his head. "Can't say as there was ever a time I liked girls more than boys, so I'm not sure I can answer the question.'

"Oh."

"S'been, now, he told me he never even thought about boys until he impressed. He was Hold-bred. They're often late converts."

"Who was the latest?"

"What do you mean?"

"How old could a rider be and suddenly notice that they'd started liking boys?"

D'min blinked, and B'lee wondered if he was working out entirely too much, too fast, so he added, "Purely on hypothetical grounds, of course. Unless you know of an example."

"I don't know, exactly," D'min answered, slowly - almost suspiciously. "I guess it would depend on their upbringing and how easily they were able to adapt to life in the Weyr."

"How would it start?"

"What?" D'min looked at him like he was going crazy, and B'lee couldn't really blame him. Maybe he ought to talk to S'been instead.

"Never mind. It's not important."

D'min's expression didn't get any less incredulous, and B'lee started to panic.

"Really, D'min. It was just an idle thought. Just forget it."

D'min nodded slowly, but B'lee had the feeling that he'd better watch his step for a few days.

And he still hadn't even mentioned the dreams.

* * *

A couple of days later, he tried to talk to S'been. It was actually quite difficult to catch the blue rider without anyone else around - he was a very popular man - but he finally managed to corner him near the storerooms, where S'been had been cajoling Marta into giving some more wher-hide pants. He took the opportunity to ask him for some advice, but he must have been particularly clumsy about it, because S'been took it as an invitation and tried to grope him. That took a bit of wriggling and squirming to get out of, and B'lee was left red-faced and fumbling at his clothing when the Weyrwoman walked by. Her understanding smile didn't help one little bit, and he made his escape without getting the information he had sought.

He continued to have intense but disturbing dreams two or three times every sevenday. The man - he knew that it was always the same man - remained anonymous, but other details were vivid and clear. It was profoundly embarrassing to recall some of the things his dream-lover did to him, and some of the things he did in return. Since all the riders, and green riders in particular, were fond of describing their encounters in lurid detail, he wasn't completely ignorant of what went on between men, and his mind supplied what his body didn't know, making up an encounter of such immediacy and clarity that the real life he woke up to in the mornings paled in comparison.

He couldn't talk to D'min about it - he'd realised that after the last attempt - and he had a suspicion that any other rider would probably react the way that S'been had. He had to try and find someone who was discreet, homosexual and knowledgeable about both Weyr-bred and Hold-bred customs.

Eventually he went to Healer Berchar, and asked if he could talk with him. He knew that Berchar also liked men, so made it perfectly clear that his affections were directed towards someone else as soon as he broached the subject.

"The problem is," he said, twisting his handkerchief around in his hands, "I've always thought of myself as hetero. Even when I impressed Margroth, and found out that a lot of blue riders like men, it didn't really worry me because I thought it wouldn't happen to me."

"It's not a disease or an injury, B'lee," said Berchar. "It doesn't 'happen' to anyone. It just is or isn't. The only thing that's changed is your point of view."

"I suppose so." He could feel Berchar looking at him, but kept his eyes on the floor.

"So what is it that's changed your point of view?"

"Aurieth's rising."

"Ah," said Berchar, steepling his fingers together in a way that reminded B'lee of Masterharper Tirone. "The inimitable D'min."

"Well, yes and no," said, B'lee, at once embarrassed and relieved that Berchar seemed to have grasped the point so quickly. "I've been having dreams about someone. Someone male. Umm ... intimate dreams."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Anything else?'

"Well, no. Not really."

"Do you have your eye fixed on anyone in particular?"

"I don't think so."

Berchar sighed. "Do you want to kiss any of the riders?"

"Umm ... No. No, I don't."

"Do you want to kiss any other man?"

"No. Definitely not."

"So you're worried that you're changing from hetero to homo solely on the basis of having impressed a blue dragon and having a few wet dreams?"

"Well ..." B'lee felt rather uncomfortable, but he couldn't really explain that what he was really worried about was the _rightness_ of how it felt to be with his dream-lover, of how good and natural and loving it felt to be held by him, to be kissed by him. The thought of actually kissing any man he knew - even D'min - was still a bit nauseating, if he was honest. Surely that was what counted? If he didn't want to kiss a man, he couldn't be homo. "I suppose so," he said, eventually.

"Well, young B'lee, I think I can tell you quite honestly that it takes more than a wet dream or two to distinguish homo from hetero. Your problem is simply that you're not getting enough of anything, and so your mind is supplying ... umm, certain _needs_ ... using whatever material it to hand. Since you're with riders morning, noon and night, it's only natural that they should pop up in your dreams."

Part of B'lee wanted desperately to accept what Berchar was saying - that the Healer was very experienced in looking after dragonriders and he was worrying over nothing. The other part thought that there was something seriously _wrong_ with what Berchar was saying, and it didn't matter how much experience he had with other dragonriders, he didn't know B'lee at all. Unable to resolve this conflict, B'lee admitted to himself that he had no idea what he should do next, apart from getting out of there as quickly as possible.

Since he didn't wish to be rude, he simply nodded and thanked the healer for his advice, then left the infirmary and wandered back to the main caverns.

What now?

He'd had little in the way of useful advice from D'min, S'been or Berchar, and there weren't many other people he could approach. Briefly he thought about Tamina. She was the closest to a mother-figure he had in the Weyr, but he didn't suppose that she'd be able to understand male homosexuality in a way that was relevant to him. And he certainly wasn't going to approach his wingleader with a personal problem like this, no matter how caring S'peren was normally.

He'd just have to continue on his own, trying to make sense of the puzzle that was his life.

* * *

A few nights later, he woke once more, sweaty and sated, with a large wet stain on his sheets. He debated getting up and washing, but he was tired, and it was a warm night. He settled for pushing the sheets aside and lay awake, thinking back over the dream.

There had been the usual intense sexual activity, but this time there had been a difference. This time, he had to cope with the uncomfortable realisation that the man in his dreams - the one who brought him to climax after shuddering climax - now had a face. What was worse, was that he knew the face very well, having seen it almost every day for the past two Turns.

The man in his dreams was D'min.


	12. Dragonlust

_Summer, 36th Turn of the Present Pass_

B'lee found no solution to his problems in the ensuing days, but managed to suppress any thought about them with dedication to caring for Margroth and in fighting Thread. They had a busy period ahead of them, with three Threadfalls in as many days, over different parts of the continent, and that left him little time to brood or to worry.

Unfortunately, exhaustion had little effect on his nocturnal adventures, and he continued to dream about D'min. Now that he knew who it was, the dreams became, if possible, even more vivid. He could just about smell and taste D'min when his dream-lover kissed him, and as for the rest ... well, the decision to sleep without sheets at all was entirely justified, as skin was a lot easier to wash than cloth.

He spent hours trying to work out what it all meant. Was he was falling in love, or did he just want to bed his friend? And while he had a feeling that D'min wouldn't object either way, he wondered if the increased intimacy would somehow ruin their friendship. He didn't dare mention it - at least not until he'd worked out on his own what it was that he wanted - but it made him a little more accepting of D'min's absent-minded caresses. He found himself searching for D'min if he wasn't close by, watching him eat or talk, and listening for the sound of him getting ready in the mornings. During Threadfall or practice, one part of his brain was constantly monitoring where D'min was and what he was doing. He couldn't bear the thought that his friend might get hurt, and redoubled his efforts to clear every Thread from the sky whenever they were up with the Wings.

His efforts gained him (and Margroth) the respect of the Wing and a reputation for fierce determination, which did him no harm in the eyes of the lower caverns girls. Finally, they were interested, and started to seek him out to offer him klah, or berry juice, or to entice him to walk along the darker corridors. Ironically, he barely gave them a passing look in return - all his thoughts were set on how to let D'min know about his change in attitude without committing himself to some emotional idiocy like saying he was in love, which he wasn't. He really wasn't. At least ... he didn't think he was.

* * *

Under the circumstances, it was more than a little embarrassing to find himself suddenly the object of hero-worship from one of the two new weyrlings who had moved into the adjacent weyrs.

B'lee had never thought of himself as anything special. He had become used to compliments on his voice and gitar-playing, and acknowledged them with grace, but anything more personal that that he found difficult to accept. When H'tan asked his advice one day about the best way to prepare for _between_ he was flattered, but took little notice of it, telling the boy what he thought the best method was. When H'tan approached him again the following week, he wondered if there was a little more to it, and made a mental note to ask D'min's opinion at some stage. Dom always knew the gossip.

That evening, he was sitting with D'min and a couple of others from 4 Wing in the dining hall. Now that they ate at the second sitting there was no need to hurry away from the tables, and if he wasn't playing himself, he would sit there for some hours, chatting with the other riders in the wing, discussing tactics or music or the latest weyr gossip.

It was S'been who had spotted it, having seen the boy ask B'lee some further questions outside the hall, and he started to tease B'lee on his new admirer. It took a while for B'lee to work out what S'been was talking about, but when he realised, he couldn't stop himself from blushing.

"It's not like that," he tried to say, feeling his face getting redder and redder. "Of course he's going to ask someone who lives in the next weyr. I'm new enough that I can remember how difficult it was to learn everything, and I'm not as frightening as F'neldril. I don't see that there's anything strange in that."

"B'lee, honestly!" exclaimed S'been. "Not when he looks at you like Banth looks at a wherry! He wants your arse, my friend."

"More like his dick," said M'ken, a green rider who had made it plain that he wouldn't object to a few nights with B'lee, if B'lee should ever change his mind about that silly liking-only-girls attitude.

B'lee blushed even more, and tried to laugh it off. "It's not that. He's just young. Though I'll admit that he _is_ very pretty."

"He's changing!" shouted M'ken. "B'lee thinks a boy is pretty!"

"So that's what you were talking about the other day, was it?" said S'been, teasingly, and B'lee was horrified to see the others clamouring for details. S'been obliged them. "B'lee wanted to know how I knew when I started liking green riders. I didn't realise he had a particular green rider in mind!"

"No! It's not like that! Honest!" cried B'lee, despairingly, but no one listened to him. Everyone laughed at and joked, but eventually the talk moved onto other subjects, and the awkwardness passed.

All the same, B'lee felt acutely uncomfortable at the thought that M'ken and the others believed that he liked H'tan in that way. He made a vow to himself not to encourage the lad, and to maintain a proper distance whenever he had to talk to him.

It was hardly a consolation that at least they hadn't guessed the true object of his warped affections. His pre-occupation with D'min was still safely a secret.

Luckily for his peace of mind, he didn't see the expression on D'min's face.

* * *

If D'min had been sexually adventurous before that conversation, after it he became downright predatory. His liaison with G'lin had gone the way of all the others (they had parted amicably after having explored most of the coital variations known to man), and he was actively pursuing new partners. There was a desperation to D'min's activities now, though, as if he were using novelty to fend off something else. He never stayed with any rider more than a week or two - not enough to give anyone the idea that he might be settling into a partnership, and not enough to really get to know them. He flirted with anyone and everyone (including a couple of rather horrified bronze riders), and refused to take anything seriously.

Bad as that was, B'lee could have coped with it - it was, after all, merely a difference in degree rather than in kind. D'min's attitude to B'lee, on the other hand, underwent a profound and disconcerting change. Whereas before D'min had sought his company, now he avoided it. Before they had laughed and joked most of the day; now they barely spoke. Even when they were forced to collaborate for Wing activities, D'min kept his eyes veiled and his voice light and impersonal.

B'lee was hurt by D'min's change in behaviour. He couldn't help but see the irony - that D'min had turned away from him at precisely the moment B'lee realised he might want D'min - but he told himself that he had to forget that, or at least keep it out of sight. He mustn't let anyone, least of all D'min, know about the change in his feelings, especially now.

He tried, once or twice, to find out what was plaguing him, but the green rider was uncharacteristically silent on the subject. Even when B'lee cornered him in the corridor one morning, when it was obvious he was returning from an all-night tryst, he refused to respond to questions that only a few weeks ago he would have been eager to answer.

"I'm sorry, said B'lee, knowing that he'd hurt D'min somehow and wanting to put it right if he could. "I just care about you. I wanted to know where you'd been."

D'min winced, and said, "None of your business."

"Sorry."

D'min slumped against the wall, as if whatever burden he was bearing was too heavy for him. "I didn't mean to snap at you," he said.

B'lee accepted the half-apology with a sad smile. "I just worry about you sometimes. I know you never stay with anyone for very long, but lately it seems like you're never with the same man twice."

D'min gave him an odd look. "If I can't have the one I really want, I'll take anyone I can get."

"The one you really want? Who's that?"

D'min shook his head and pursed his mouth, obviously angry that he'd said that much. "It doesn't matter."

"But- "

"I said, it doesn't matter. Now just leave me alone." He brushed past and entered his weyr, leaving B'lee to stand and watch him, bemused and rather anxious. The D'min of a year ago - six months ago, even - would have laughed at the idea that he couldn't have anyone he wanted; this D'min stated it flatly. It was so far out of character that B'lee felt seriously worried.

Still, at least he had a little more information than he'd had before. It was clear to him that D'min had fallen in love, and that the object of his affections didn't love him back. Well, B'lee could understand that feeling. He'd been on the painful end of that several times in his life, and there was nothing worse than the feeling of being unwanted. At least D'min had Aurieth, and he had his friends around him, so he wasn't completely alone. And if D'min couldn't have the one he wanted, well B'lee would make sure that he had at least one friend he could go to at anytime, someone he could rely on more than a casual partner.

He'd just have to make sure he was there when D'min needed a friend.

* * *

This time, when D'min started snarling at everyone over his lunch-time klah, everyone recognised that Aurieth was proddy. They had experienced the effects several times since entering the fighting wings, and with so many greens around, it was a rare Thread-free day that there wasn't at least one proddy rider in the Weyr.

B'lee wondered who would fly her. There were gathers at Igen and Tillek that day, and many of the unattached blues and browns were on ferry duty, leaving few available. He would have liked to have gone to one of the gathers himself, but the Weyrleader had made it plain that only those who had duties there were to attend, and B'lee had to admit that several hundred dragons and their riders would be a lot for any Hold to accommodate.

He sighed. He wished that uncomfortable feeling between his shoulder blades would go away. He'd had another dream about D'min last night, and briefly, he wondered if perhaps Aurieth's impending proddiness had triggered it.

That might explain last night, he told himself, but what about the night before? Or the one before that? He was deluding himself if he thought that his feelings for D'min were purely dragon-related. He was so caught up in his obsession that he couldn't recall the last night when he _hadn't_ dreamed of D'min.

"Are you coming, B'lee?" called S'been, startling him out of his thoughts.

"Where to?"

"D'min's sending Aurieth up Ruatha way. We thought we'd send up a dozen blues and browns to fly her - give her a chance to stretch her wings a little."

"That sounds reasonable."

S'been stood with his hands on his hips and looked at B'lee somewhat exasperatedly. "Are you sending Margroth?"

"What?" he squeaked. "Well, that is ... I hadn't really thought about it."

"Did you ask Margroth?"

"No. At least, not yet."

"Well, go on then. Is he interested or not?"

 _Margroth_ , he called, _do you want to go to Ruatha and join the dragons seeking to fly Aurieth?_

Margroth considered the prospect for a minute. _She's pretty_ , he said.

 _She's very pretty. But do you want to fly her?_

 _Do you want me to fly her?_

 _I - I don't know._

 _You like her rider._

 _I know, but that doesn't mean you have to go_.

There was a pause as Margroth considered the question. Eventually he gave the mental equivalent of a nod, and said, _Yes, I want to go to Ruatha._

 _Fine. B'lee swallowed. _I'll be with the others then. Have a good flight.__

 _I intend to_ , said the blue as he took off from the weyr ledge. B'lee followed with his mind's eye and then turned to the others, who were heading for their small part of the Weyr.

"Margroth's going to Ruatha," he said to S'been.

"Excellent! Now let's go and get some essential supplies." He guffawed at B'lee's expression. "Wine, B'lee, I'm only talking about wine and food."

"Oh. All right then."

Having sent their dragons away, the riders were forced to climb the steps, and it was a fairly breathless group that convened in D'min's weyr. Luckily B'lee and S'been joined them only a few minutes later with wineskins slung over their shoulders and netted bags full of bread and cheese.

"Oh, brilliant!" exclaimed G'lin, grabbing the wineskins and pouring out a gobletful. "Always helps."

B'lee eyed him with some mistrust, wondering if perhaps he was the one who had broken D'min's heart. Or maybe he was trying to rekindle their relationship. Either way, B'lee wished he'd been elsewhere that afternoon,

He looked around at the riders who thought they had a chance. "Where's B'nik?" he asked. "I thought Hidrith was joining them at Ruatha."

"He is, but B'nik went to his own weyr with Taralla. He doesn't want to run the risk of pouncing on D'min should Hidrith fly Aurieth."

"So what would D'min do, then?"

G'lin grinned. "Oh, I'm sure that one of us will be able to help him out."

Several of them laughed, and B'lee looked at D'min to see how he was taking it all. He appeared to be quite relaxed - well, as relaxed as any rider with a proddy dragon could be - and took a goblet of wine from S'been with a warm smile and a lingering touch of fingers.

Perversely, B'lee felt annoyed. He knew that D'min distributed his favours far and wide, but he didn't do a lot of flirting right in front of B'lee's face. To see him smiling so warmly at the other rider made him feel ... made him feel ... well, he didn't like it.

D'min should only smile that way at him.

D'min should ...

It took several second for him to realise what he had just said. It didn't matter that the words had been silent, heard only by himself - he was appalled.

He didn't have the right to be jealous of D'min, or of D'min's lovers. Hadn't he told his friend, over and over, that he wasn't interested? How could he possibly object to D'min sleeping with other men when he had turned him down? And yet ... the thought of anyone else taking D'min to bed - dragonlust or not - made him feel angry and miserable.

He groaned in despair. He didn't see any way that this could turn out well. Maybe he should just leave now, call Margroth back and hide somewhere at the other end of the Weyr for the rest of the day.

S'been handed him a goblet of wine, and he downed it in one long swallow.

"Don't have too much of that," teased S'been. "You don't want to be too drunk to manage things if Margroth's the lucky dragon! And if he isn't, you'll want some left to drown your sorrows."

B'lee growled, deep in his throat. He didn't want to think of anyone beating Margroth. He didn't want to think of being left out in the cold while D'min took someone else to bed.

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. It was ridiculous, he told himself. Why was he feeling this way? Why was he thinking these thoughts? He couldn't possibly be jealous of D'min's partners, could he? If he was jealous, that could only mean that he felt more for D'min than he had so far been prepared to admit. Only lovers got jealous ...

After another goblet of wine, he felt a little calmer, and began to think that he might get out of this with his dignity intact, if not his self-esteem. All he had to do was control himself long enough to leave quietly once Aurieth had made her choice and not try to rip out the throat of whichever blue rider was the lucky man. He could do that. Possibly.

Aurieth had blooded two wherries and was flying as high and fast as she could, with the blues and browns trailing behind. It wasn't as important for a green to fly high and long - there were no eggs to be gained, after all - but most greens enjoyed the chase as much as the mating that followed, and Aurieth appeared to be no exception.

He took a deep breath and told himself to relax.

 _Why did I come here?_ he asked himself. _This is such a stupid thing to do._

Yes, it was, but it was also the only chance he might ever have of finding out if D'min could kiss as well as the man in his dreams; if he would feel as good in his arms. And best of all, even if he did take D'min to bed, he didn't have to give himself away. No matter how good it might be - if it happened at all - he could explain it away on dragonlust. D'min need never know that B'lee was dreaming about him, need never know that only two days ago he'd caught himself picturing D'min as he stroked himself.

He closed his eyes, and immediately was caught up in Margroth's pursuit. Aurieth had a good turn of speed and was leading the blues and browns a merry chase. She took a look over her shoulder at them, and B'lee could have sworn that she smirked to see them falling behind. Margroth harrumphed, and B'lee felt the blue's determination.

B'lee glared hatred at the others in the room, not sure if the emotion was his own or Margroth's. It didn't really matter. His wonderful blue dragon had decided to fly Aurieth and win, and that suited B'lee just fine.

Though Margroth wasn't the biggest dragon in pursuit, he had the advantage of knowing Aurieth very well indeed. They had grown up together, trained together and fought Thread together. He knew every move she made, every trick she had in her repertoire. He knew he had no chance of outlasting the browns, but he could outwit them - and Aurieth herself - to gain the prize. He put on a turn of speed and veered left. As he had expected, Aurieth dodged left and he descended suddenly, catching her with all four limbs and hanging on tight as she tried to fight him off.

B'lee knew that Margroth had won Aurieth when he found himself in D'min's arms, and to his surprise it felt marvellous. D'min was kissing him fiercely, and he responded, opening his mouth and letting D'min probe with his tongue - and B'lee gasped as it triggered another wave of desire. How could something so simple as a tongue do this to him? The kisses he'd imagined from his dream-lover hadn't been anything like this. He was overwhelmed by the smell and taste and feel of D'min so close to him.

His knees felt weak, and he was vaguely grateful for the hands that pushed him in the direction of the bed. They fell into it, and D'min was even better lying down, his weight pressing B'lee into the sleeping furs, aligning their very rigid cocks and thrusting against him.

They didn't even notice the others leaving.

After a few minutes, during which he came closer to sticking his tongue down D'min's throat than he would have imagined possible, B'lee realised that while all this grinding was good, but it wasn't quite right. It wasn't how it was supposed to be. He had to mate with D'min - he had to be inside him, to penetrate him even as Margroth was penetrating Aurieth. He scrabbled to undo D'min's breeches and his own, and rolled them over so he was the one on top. His hands went between D'min's legs to open them wide.

"Salve!" gasped D'min.

B'lee stared at him before the word started to make sense. Of course, he needed salve to make sure that his thrusts didn't hurt. He looked frantically around the bed, knowing that D'min would have the jar somewhere very handy - like the small alcove at the head of the bed. He grabbed it and dipped a finger inside to scoop out some of the sweet-smelling grease. He quickly rubbed it over his cock, biting his lip at the wave of sensation, and was about to thrust in when D'min stopped him. "In me," he grunted."

"What?"

"In me. You have to put the salve inside me. Don't need much but I can't take you dry."

B'lee's brain really wasn't working properly, and he shook his head trying to work out what D'min actually wanted but failing. He held the jar out to D'min and said, "Show me."

D'min took the jar and B'lee's right hand, and gestured for him to take up some more salve. Then he guided B'lee's hand between his legs, until his fingertips touched the small opening, and B'lee suddenly realised - "You want it inside there?"

"Yes," D'min moaned, as B'lee pushed in. "More, deeper," he demanded, and B'lee ventured further in, rolling his hand around so as to coat the surface inside. D'min thought that was wonderful, and said so.

"Now?" he asked, pulling his hand out and lining himself up once more.

"Yes, now," breathed D'min, lifting his hips.

B'lee pushed in, and nearly screamed at the sensation. D'min was so tight, so hot inside, so wonderful in every way, that he almost came at that moment. From the look of it, D'min was pretty close himself. The expression on his face was fierce, possessive, and exultant. It was overwhelming. B'lee could smell the musk from both of them, heady and strong and intoxicating, and he leaned forward as far as he could.

"No, lean back, push up," moaned D'min.

B'lee did his best but it was an awkward angle, and he was afraid he wasn't doing it right. Then D'min lifted his hips and suddenly B'lee felt something hard and D'min yelled "Yes! There! Don't stop!"

B'lee started thrusting, his own desire mirroring Margroth's, and felt his climax building inside him. He didn't want this to end, but he couldn't help it - it exploded out of him and he yelled as he came. D'min was yelling too, and pulling on his cock, and B'lee opened his eyes in time to see D'min's face as he came, and he wanted to come again himself because it was so beautiful.

He remained there for a minute, then pulled out and collapsed down on the bed beside D'min. But if B'lee had thought that dragonlust could be sated by one climax, he was wrong - he was still hard, and almost ready to go again. He had barely caught his breath when D'min started kissing him again, and it was just as good this time - slower, more exploratory, more gentle. He couldn't help but respond, and opened himself to D'min completely.

It was beyond good. Where the last coupling had been frantic and urgent, this time was slow and sensuous. D'min's hand roamed freely over B'lee's body, touching areas he had never dreamed would be so responsive. He shivered whenever a particularly sensitive spot was brushed, and moaned when D'min started to kiss a fiery path down the side of his neck. He wanted more, and said so. D'min smiled and kissed him again, his tongue swirling and dipping into B'lee's mouth, making him dizzy and helpless.

Being with a girl had never been like this, B'lee was sure. He'd never felt so willing or so wanton with any of them. Whatever D'min was doing to him, it was better than anything he'd had before, and he wanted it to last forever. He whispered it into D'min's ear, and felt him shiver. Then he was shivering as D'min kissed and caressed and licked and touched every inch of his body.

At some point, his eyes had closed, which was stupid, because D'min had pulled away, and he wanted to see what D'min was doing. When he opened them and saw D'min slowly impaling himself on his cock, he couldn't stop the whimper that escaped him. The expression on D'min's face was transcendent, as if this was the best moment he'd ever had in his entire life. B'lee couldn't argue with that, not when he felt about to explode with love and lust combined.

He groaned as D'min settled onto him and leaned back. D'min rose and fell and B'lee was whimpering again as his cock was squeezed almost painfully tightly. He put his hands up to D'min's hips, and then to his cock, and was rewarded by a catch in D'min's breathing and a look of such intensity that it almost had him coming there and then. And how could he ever have thought that sex with a girl was good, when it hadn't been nearly as intense as this? It was nothing - the merest shadow compared with what he was feeling now, with D'min.

He fought to hold on, so that D'min would come first - he had some vague idea that it was only fair, since he'd come first the last time - but it was no use. The sight and smell and pure sensation of D'min riding him was too much, and he gave a cry and arched up as he came, shooting deep into D'min's body.

He lay there, breathless and panting, for a few moments as he gathered his wits. When he opened his eyes he saw D'min staring down at him, and he realised that he ought to help him, at least. He reached out and took hold of D'min's cock, giving it a couple of long slow strokes.

"Faster," ordered D'min, and B'lee complied, watching D'min start to rise and fall again. He saw D'min give several small gasps as he approached his climax, followed by an almost-convulsive movement as he came, spilling over B'lee's hand and stomach. Then he collapsed, exhausted, on top of him, and B'lee put his arms around him to pull him to one side. D'min didn't seem to care about the mess - in fact he didn't even open his eyes, but he did snuggle up against B'lee's chest and mutter something indistinct before falling asleep.

B'lee lay awake for a few more minutes himself. He'd held girls this way once or twice, and it had been nice, but holding D'min was very different. His body was harder - leaner and less squishy - but it moulded around B'lee's as if it had been made for it. The slight scratching of D'min's chest hair against his ribs was strange, too, but not repulsive. There was nothing about D'min that was repulsive.

He smiled to himself as he ran a hand up and down D'min's back, hearing the slight sounds that his lover made in response. His last thought, as he drifted off, was that D'min was going to be impossible to live with now, having finally converted him to the homo side of life.

* * *

B'lee woke in the middle of the night to relieve himself. On his return, there was just enough light from the glows to see D'min's face - peaceful and serene, as it never was when he was awake. B'lee looked down at it for some minutes, wondering just how it was that he had never seen the love in D'min's face before. The boy was beyond beautiful, even with his ridiculous ears and his crooked jaw. He was everything to B'lee now - and if he was truthful with himself, D'min had been everything to him from the very first day he had set foot in the Weyr. How had he not seen it? How had he not felt it? He'd been blind and stupid, that was how. He'd been so set on proving himself "normal" that he'd wasted two years chasing girls when he could have been kissing D'min.

He smiled. Kissing D'min had been a revelation. He'd never known it to be so exhilarating, so breathtaking, in every sense of the world. It was something he wanted to feel again and again, in as many ways as possible.

He paused by the bedside, wondering if he should get back into bed with his friend, or if he should return to his own weyr. He wasn't sure of the proper customs. He really ought to have paid more attention when the others talked about it, instead of trying to ignore them. How was one supposed to act in the morning? The last time Aurieth had risen, D'min and K'lon had just smiled and gone their separate ways the morning after. Maybe that was what he ought to do - what D'min was expecting him to do. He certainly wouldn't be expecting B'lee to make a declaration of love.

Perhaps he ought to delay that a day or so ... after all, D'min might think he was still under the influence of dragonlust and wine. How could he explain that the dragons' mating had merely opened the door to something that had been there for a long time already? Would D'min believe him? Or would he think that B'lee was just being sentimental? Would he think that B'lee was making fun of him?

Now he really thought about it, it would be better to let things settle down first, and then he could invite D'min into his weyr and they'd drink some wine and he could explain what had been happening to him over the last few months. That would be much better than waking up with the both of them horribly embarrassed.

D'min stirred and his arm extended to the place where B'lee had lain. Finding cool linens where a warm body ought to be, he stilled, and then rolled over towards the wall and curled up tight.

Well, that decided that. B'lee turned and went back to his own bed and lay awake on the cold sheets.


	13. Confusion

_Summer, 36th Turn of the Present Pass_

It took B'lee a long time to get back to sleep after leaving D'min's weyr. His own bunk was cold and lonely in comparison with the warm tangle of bodies he'd had a few hours before, but he lay down and tried to ignore the aches of muscles seldom used.

He didn't wake up until just before noon, and thanked his lucky stars that Threadfall was late that afternoon and short in duration, as he really didn't want to face S'peren's wrath for being late.

D'min wasn't in his weyr, and a query to Margroth was unsuccessful. Aurieth couldn't - or wouldn't - tell him where D'min was, in spite of the fact that the two dragons were still lying entwined in Aurieth's weyr.

B'lee sighed to himself. That wasn't going to help matters.

He looked through the main caverns, but found no trace of D'min, and came to the conclusion that he must have hidden himself away somewhere. The message was clear - he didn't want to see B'lee. He was probably horribly embarrassed by what had happened.

B'lee wondered if D'min had finally got over his crush on B'lee, and gave a sour laugh at the irony that he had fallen for D'min just as the green rider was moving on.

Not for the first time, B'lee wondered if he'd been right to accept the invitation to be a Candidate. If he'd refused, he would have been a Journeyman Harper by now, either at High Reaches Hold with all his family around him, or in some far-flung place on Pern, helping to keep the traditions alive. He would have met a nice girl, perhaps, and might even have been planning to wed her. He would have been happy.

 _Only because you didn't know that anything better existed_ , he told himself. _Only because you wouldn't have known D'min._

What would his life have been like if he'd never met D'min? He might have been friends with any of the other blue or green riders - but there was no one quite like D'min. No one else laughed at his silly jokes, or grinned at him in quite that way, or gave him hugs when he didn't even realise he needed them. No one else had such an enthusiasm for life as D'min. No one else could make him as happy just by saying hello in the morning.

He came to the conclusion that not knowing D'min would have been far worse, and resolved to try and mend the breach between them in whatever way possible.

* * *

Threadfall passed without incident, except that D'min was suspiciously busy and looking in another direction whenever B'lee tried to get near him. When they finally met, at the evening meal, B'lee's worst suspicions were confirmed - D'min barely looked at him. He smiled a greeting to the table at large, but there was no special smile for B'lee, no acknowledgement of what they had shared the previous day. He ate quickly and left before the others, saying he had things to do.

B'lee guessed that he would have returned to his weyr, and he was right. He forced his way past the tie that indicated the rider wanted privacy, and entered the room.

"D'min," he began. "I have to talk to you."

D'min was sitting up on the bed, his arms around his knees, looking towards the weyr where Margroth and Aurieth lay, still wrapped around each other. He didn't even turned around as he said, "There's nothing to talk about."

"There is. About last night ..."

"Look, B'lee, it's not the end of the world. Aurieth rose, Margroth flew her, we had a great shag. That's all there is. It doesn't mean we're lovers. It was just dragonlust. Nothing special."

B'lee was shocked by the bitterness in D'min's voice. D'min had to be lying - it had to have meant something more than that. "Is that all it was?" he asked, trying hard to keep his voice calm and neutral when he wanted to scream and yell.

"Sure. What did you think?" His voice was cold and flat, devoid of any emotion, and it sent chills into B'lee's heart.

"I don't know."

"I'm not going to make you live in my weyr. I'm not going to swear eternal love for you. So don't think that anything's going to be different. It won't be. You're free to bed anyone you fancy, and so am I. Things haven't changed at all."

So. D'min hadn't seen how much B'lee loved him, then. At least he had that as a sop to his pride. "All right," he said, pleased that his voice didn't crack, even though he felt his heart was breaking. "I'll see you in the morning, then."

"Sleep well."

"You too."

B'lee went back to his own weyr and sat on the empty ledge, looking out into the bowl. In the twilight he could see a few people down there, talking in clumps or just walking from one side to another, going about their business. No one looked up in his direction. He was just another dragonrider, just a blue rider, no one of any importance.

D'min was right. What had happened between them was nothing unusual in the weyr - dragons mated and riders mated and that was all there was. It was just a part of life. _Nothing special._

And B'lee had obviously been right last night, when he'd wondered if D'min had moved on. He wondered who D'min had spent the day with, and felt jealousy burning inside him.

It was no use. He had no excuse to feel jealous. He had no _right_ to feel jealous. He'd had two years of D'min's affections, and if he'd been too stupid to take advantage of them - to really see D'min - in all that time, then perhaps he didn't deserve him. All he could do now was to hide how he really felt and remain D'min's friend. All he had to do was behave in exactly the same way he always did.

He could do that, even if it meant carrying that horrible empty feeling around with him all day. He could do that for his friend.

* * *

The next few weeks were some of the most confusing in B'lee's whole life. Nothing had changed ... but everything was different. D'min was no longer avoiding him quite so much, but he hadn't returned to his previous enthusiastic self. He greeted B'lee quite civilly, and agreed with nearly everything he said, and joined in the discussions on the last Fall, or the next, as he had always done. It was just that there was nothing more - nothing of the teasing, or the suggestive comments, or the grabby hands that he had got used to. And never mind that he had complained more than once about D'min's habit of caressing any body part within easy reach ... now that it wasn't happening, perversely, he missed it. He craved D'min's touch. He craved the easy camaraderie that they had shared for so many months. He particularly missed the special smiles that D'min had given him whenever they met after however brief an absence, the way that D'min would always manage to cadge some sort of treat out of the kitchen staff and share it with him, the way that D'min had looked after him.

Even though he had thought of him as no more than a friend, the attention D'min had given him had made him feel special and wanted and loved, and B'lee now wondered how he could have been so cold in return. How could D'min have gone on being affectionate towards him for so long without encouragement? How had he coped with the pain of being rejected time and time again?

From his viewpoint now, B'lee could understand all too well the hurt he'd seen in Dmin's eyes occasionally, when B'lee had snapped at him or thrown off an arm that had strayed around B'lee's waist. Now it was D'min who was avoiding his touch, sliding away whenever B'lee got too close, never allowing a hug or a hand on the shoulder, or even a friendly nudge and a roll of the eyes whenever M'ken made another asinine suggestion. Every little avoidance hurt, and B'lee grew more and more despairing as the days passed and D'min continued to be distant.

He was away for much of his free time, and B'lee wondered if he'd found a lover in another Weyr. He tried to listen to the gossip a bit more closely, but no one was talking of D'min or his latest attachment, and D'min didn't really have the exuberance and sheer over-flowing love of life that he usually had with a new lover. Instead he was sombre and slow and sad.

B'lee wondered who the idiot could be who was treating D'min badly enough to make him unhappy. How could anyone see him and not want to hold him? How could anyone bear to hurt him? B'lee blamed himself. If he hadn't been so slow, if he hadn't been so stupid, D'min might have been with him all this time, and wouldn't have moved on to whatever fickle-hearted tunnel-snake of a rider had broken his heart. The only thing he could do, he reasoned, was to remain as friendly as possible, and hope that when it all blew over he would be allowed back into D'min's life to help him pick up the shattered pieces of his heart.

With this in mind, he persisted in efforts to be friendly towards D'min. He greeted him cheerily and with a smile every day, brought him klah and food whenever possible, and helped him to make new riding straps when Aurieth's first set started to stretch, but his efforts had little effect. D'min remained friendly but distant, and the shadow in his eyes didn't fade. B'lee felt like pinning him down and forcing him to say who was making him so sad, just so that he could go and pick a fight.

Inevitably, the tensions started to spill over into their flying. In the first two months after joining 4 Wing they had developed a good working relationship, catching most of the stray Thread in their area and leaving little for the ground crews to take care of. Now, with self-consciousness and hesitation, a lot of that had been lost, and P'tan, their wingsecond, had to speak to them more than once about the dangers of getting sloppy in the air.

 _I just don't know what to do_ , B'lee confided to Margroth, after one particularly biting comment from P'tan. _I used to know just where D'min would be, just where he'd move, and it made everything so easy. Now I haven't a clue._

Margroth rumbled in sympathy, but he didn't really understand the problem, and B'lee wasn't sure that he could explain it to him.

 _Could you ask Aurieth what's wrong with him?_

 _She says he is unhappy. He doesn't tell her why_.

Well, that wasn't much use to him. He almost debated asking Margroth to ask Aurieth to ask D'min just what the matter was, but it wasn't really fair to get the dragons involved in complex human emotions that they had no chance of understanding. He'd just have to continue his own efforts to get to the bottom of it.

And he still hadn't worked out what was going on inside his own mind, let alone D'min's.

* * *

"D'min."

"Hmm?" D'min looked up from the braid he was weaving and gestured for B'lee to come in.

"I - I need to talk to you."

"So talk. I'm just trying to get this finished for Lidora - she wants to wear it for the Hatching next week, so I can't stop."

"Oh, that's fine." He strolled into the chamber and sat down at the table. "Umm ..." Oh, this was far too difficult. He took a look around the chamber, seeing how much nicer it looked with the newish tapestries that D'min had managed to cajole out of Marta. The colours were soft greens and reds, warm and inviting. They suited D'min and Aurieth.

D'min continued his work, and B'lee took a moment to admire it. It was a three-colour interweaving knot that looked quite complex, even without the gold accents that he'd put in, and B'lee was glad that D'min had developed the skills he'd learned in the Weavercrafthall to the point where a junior queenrider would commission his work. "I hope she's paying you for that."

"Three marks."

B'lee whistled. "Good price! How much are you doing for her?"

"Enough for the neckline and both cuffs. She wanted enough for the hemline as well, but I said it would take too long and cost too much."

B'lee could only agree.

"So," continued D'min, "what did you want?"

B'lee hesitated. He really wanted to ask D'min about his attitude over the last few weeks, but he could see that D'min was busy, and he didn't was to run the risk of D'min losing a commission because of yet another argument with B'lee. Instead he shook his head, and mumbled, "I just wanted to say hello. We don't talk much any more."

"Doesn't seem to be much to say."

 _Oh, but there is_ , cried B'lee silently, but aloud he said only, "You're probably right."

"Don't let me keep you, then."

Reluctantly, B'lee rose and turned to go. But he had to make one last effort. "D'min?"

"Mmm?"

"If anyone's been treating you badly, you'd tell me, wouldn't you?"

"What?" D'min looked up, honestly puzzled, and B'lee felt acutely embarrassed.

"I thought - you've been so sad lately, and I thought it might be a rider you've got involved with. Someone who's not treating you well."

D'min gave a bitter laugh. "I can assure you, B'lee, that if I'm sad it's _not_ because of anyone I'm involved with. Quite the opposite in fact. Now if that's all you had to say, I think you'd better leave. I have work to do."

B'lee nodded miserably, and left D'min to his weaving.

Once back in his own weyr, he threw himself down on the bed and tried to think. Yet again he'd just made things worse. But at least D'min's words confirmed his theory - the boy had fallen in love with someone who didn't love him back. B'lee understood that pain only too well.

The trouble was that he wasn't sure that there was anything he could do about it. All he could do was try to work out who it was that D'min was in love with, and then ... well, it would depend. If the other rider just wasn't aware of D'min's feelings, then that was easy - B'lee would tell him, and then the rider would fall in love with D'min (because who wouldn't?) and then the two of them would be happy. And even if that didn't help B'lee much, he could cope with things an awful lot better if D'min was happy.

On the other hand, if the other rider knew of D'min's feelings and simply didn't love him back, that would be more difficult. B'lee wasn't sure what he could do in that situation. He could always point out that the rider was being stupid to pass up the chance of loving the funniest, brightest and most affectionate green rider in the Weyr. And if that didn't work ... well, he might just have to accept defeat and try to work out some other way to console D'min. You couldn't force someone to fall in love. Shells, if you could, then B'lee would be doing everything he could to make D'min fall in love with _him_.

* * *

After the near-disaster at the next Threadfall, he was expecting the reprimand from his wingleader. The wind was gusting Thread in unexpected directions, and more than one dragon got scored, especially as the light failed. He and D'min, once more at cross-purposes, had emerged from between in almost the same spot, and Margroth had squawked and almost spun on his tail as he avoided not only Aurieth but also a clump of Thread that was heading straight for him.

B'lee hadn't been paying attention, that was the problem. He'd allowed himself to admire the way D'min had been silhouetted against the darkening sky, instead of tracking Thread, and had let his concentration lapse at the crucial moment. If Aurieth - or Margroth - had been injured, it would have been his fault, and he knew it. If he'd got lost _between_ , it would have been only what he deserved. So, he bore his tongue-lashing from S'peren with head bowed and eyes on the floor, nodding at each scathing word.

What he hadn't expected was for D'min to be reprimanded as well, and in terms as harsh as his own.

"It wasn't D'min's fault!" he interjected immediately. "I was the one who wasn't paying attention!"

"You were both at fault," snapped S'peren. "You're both of you lucky I'm not grounding you for a month and sending you back to the weyrling class. You can't afford to lose concentration in a Fall. If I see anything like that happen again I'll flay the both of you. Now, go away and make sure you're rested and ready for tomorrow."

"Sorry," muttered B'lee to D'min as they returned to their weyr. "I didn't mean to make things worse for you."

"No, you never mean to," said D'min, wearily. "But you do it just the same."

B'lee stared after him, completely mystified.

* * *

A couple of evenings later, B'lee was sitting in his chamber, idly picking out a notes and chords on his gitar. He'd been humming a little melody in the last few days, and he was trying it out to see if he had the beginnings of a song. He hadn't written anything in ages, and he wondered if he could find any lyrics that would go with the tune.

There was a knock at the entrance and a tentative call. B'lee looked up and saw H'tan's face peering anxiously around the curtain.

"Can I come in?" asked the boy.

B'lee nodded, and H'tan came into the room, clutching a scroll.

"I wondered if you'd be able to explain the Thread charts to me again. I just can't understand the way that F'neldril teaches it."

B'lee sighed. He'd tried to discourage H'tan's attentions, but the boy was persistent, and he always couched his approaches in ways that made it very difficult for B'lee to refuse.

H'tan set the scroll down on the table, securing the one edge with B'lee's beaker and the other with his hand. "It's the progression I don't really understand," he said, pointing out one area of the chart. "Why should the Falls suddenly jump from _here_ to _there?_ ”

B'lee set his gitar down and tried to explain the complex - but logical - movements of Thread across Pern.

It wasn't until after he'd fastened the scroll after B'lee's impromptu tutorial that H'tan brought up the real reason for his visit - his class was shortly to start training to go _between_ , and he was quite apprehensive. Some of the Weyr-bred boys in the class had been telling horror stories, much the same as they'd done with B'lee's class the year before, only B'lee had been a little older and a little more sceptical, and hadn't fallen for the more outrageous tales as H'tan had apparently done.

"There's really nothing to it," he said. "You just picture it clearly in your mind and your dragon does the rest."

"But what if he doesn't?"

B'lee shrugged. How could he know? He'd watched Lath and S'gan go _between_ , never to return, but he had no idea what it would be like to be lost forever in that cold, grey nothing, as the seconds lengthened into minutes, and rider and dragon realised that there was no end ...

"I'm just so scared!" said H'tan, and B'lee could understand that, at least. He put an arm gingerly on H'tan's shoulder to reassure him, and was promptly enveloped in a hug, with the boy's head resting on his shoulder. B'lee gave him a couple of tentative pats on the back, and wondered how soon he could disengage himself without upsetting H'tan too much.

A small noise from the doorway alerted him, and he looked up to see D'min staring at him, the completed braid in his hand and his face white and shocked. They stared at each other for several seconds before D'min turned abruptly and left.

B'lee thrust H'tan away and raced after D'min, but it was too late - D'min had reached his own weyr and drawn the curtain tight across.

"D'min? D'min! It's not - I wasn't - Oh, shards!"

He sagged against the wall, letting his forehead rest on the rock face. Why did D'min have to make things so difficult? Why did he have to come in at just that moment, when H'tan was drooping all over him?

He turned back towards his chamber and saw H'tan watching him, his eyes as big as saucers.

"Get back to your own weyr," he ordered, bluntly. "And pay attention to F'neldril in future. He's perfectly clear in his explanations if you bother to listen."

He brushed past the boy and into his own chamber, drawing the curtain across with a snap.

None of them slept well that night.

* * *

Orlith's clutch hatched the following week, at the end of the eight month. Luckily Threadfall had been early that day, and the Wings were already back and cleaning up when the humming alerted them to the event. All the riders hurried to the Hatching Ground to see the latest group of candidates make their Impressions, many of them still with the stench of firestone on their clothes.

B'lee and D'min were among those who crowded into the spectator stands, though D'min had unaccountably veered off towards another section further up. They, at least, had had time to bathe and change, and had scrambled into their good tunics before pelting headlong down the stairs to join the throng. B'lee had made sure he was wearing the shirt with the braid that D'min had given him last Winter Solstice, but D'min had barely given it a glance.

There were 23 eggs on the sand - fewer than in their own clutch, B'lee noted, but plenty to keep up the fighting strength of the Weyr until the end of the Pass. He saw the Candidates standing nervously in their white robes and thought back to the day over two Turns ago when he had stood there himself. So much had happened in that time that he could honestly say he was a different person.

He cast a surreptitious look back up the tiers, towards D'min, and wondered what he was thinking. Was he remembering his own Impression? And did he think himself better or worse off now than he was then? And why was he still avoiding B'lee?

He glanced over to the seating occupied by the gold riders, and noted with vicarious pride that Lidora was wearing her new dress, trimmed with the braid that D'min had woven. It looked good from this distance, and the gold thread picked up the light from the glow baskets, making the braid glint and gleam. He wondered if D'min would get any more commissions from people who saw Lidora's dress. He hoped so. D'min deserved to have his talents recognised.

His attention returned to the hatching eggs, and he realised that the weyrling barracks was going to be very full, with two classes only three months apart. B'lee had wondered how F'neldril would cope, even with the riders he'd drafted in to help him, but D'min had explained - in the days when they were still speaking to one another, before the last debacle involving H'tan - that they'd probably combine the class to make things easier for everyone. That made sense, though he didn't fancy the weyrlingmaster or his assistants, trying to keep fifty eager dragonets and riders under control.

* * *

Even though D'min was barely speaking to him, B'lee still tried to do what he could to salvage their friendship. He also found himself staring at D'min every chance got. He knew he must be making himself look ridiculous, and probably giving himself away, but he couldn't help it. Everything D'min said, everything he did, was important to B'lee, and he couldn't bear the thought of letting any of it escape his notice.

D'min was rarely in his chamber now, and became even more evasive about where he'd been. B'lee heard vague rumours of his activities that filled him with concern - orgies involving multiple riders, and worried himself silly until he realised firstly, that D'min had been active in the Weyr for years and knew his way around, and secondly, that Aurieth would never let anyone harm her rider.

The rest of the wing started making jokes about a dragon with one egg, which didn't endear them to either D'min or B'lee. It didn't stop B'lee trying to look after his friend, either.

Somehow, some day, he was going to fix this.


	14. Threadscore

_9th month, 36th Turn of the Present Pass_

It was a cliché in the Wings that most injuries happened in the first or last minutes of Threadfall - either because the effect of wind and sun had not been foreseen accurately, or because riders were getting tired. In this respect, at least, the injury to D'min conformed to the common pattern.

It had been a long Fall, starting east on the plains of Crom, and was due to end over the coast just where the Tillek peninsula began. The smaller dragons had been rotated as much as possible to reduce fatigue, but they were still weary as the trailing edge approached the coastline.

Perhaps it was sheer fatigue; or perhaps it was the unlucky juxtaposition of trailing edge and a sudden shift of the onshore breeze that caused the accident. B'lee didn't see it, and since neither D'min nor Aurieth remembered it clearly, they never knew the finer details. Nevertheless, it happened just before the Fall ended, and nearly ended in tragedy.

The first that B'lee knew of it was Margroth's sudden agitation and an echo of Aurieth's scream.

 _What's happened?_ he asked, suddenly thrown back in his mind to the day when S'gan and Lath had gone _between_ , and was struck by dread. He couldn't lose D'min! Not now! _Margroth! What happened? Please say they're all right!_

 _Aurieth is scored, as is her rider._

 _Where are they?_

 _Aurieth returns to the Weyr._

 _Go there. Now._

 _We leave our post?_

B'lee considered that for all of a second, but found a justification almost immediately. _Fall is almost over - the trailing edge is only a few miles from the coast. They will not miss us. Take us to Fort._

 _I go._

They burst into the air above Fort Weyr to see Aurieth spiralling down, D'min seemingly slumped over her neck. She made it over the rim, but she seemed stunned by her injury, and B'lee told Margroth to tell her to settle in the bowl, near the Hatching Ground, rather than have her risk the narrow ledge of her weyr. There was another casualty there already, a young brown, with a small group around him, and Aurieth landed clumsily a couple of dragonlengths away, keening anxiously.

Margroth landed beside her, looking anxiously at his mate. B'lee saw that a couple of weyrlings were already scrambling up the riding straps to free D'min and bring him down. He unstrapped himself and ran over to the injured dragon, noting with satisfaction that Moreta was already striding over the sands towards her, Nesso and a couple of drudges trailing behind with cauldrons of numbweed. From the look of it, Aurieth's wings were intact, just a slight score on the leading edge of the right wing. She was twisting her neck in agitation, though, and B'lee could see glimpses of a nasty wound.

The Thread must have caught them on an updraught. It had obviously wrapped itself around Aurieth's neck and caught D'min with the trailing edge, tangling them so that they couldn't get free. If Aurieth hadn't managed to go between so fast, they might have been even more badly injured. At least it had missed Aurieth's eye. So much for small mercies, he breathed to himself.

 _How is she?_ he asked Margroth.

 _She hurts. Her rider hurts._

 _The healer is coming, and they're bringing numbweed. She'll feel better very soon._

 _Good._

"Is he all right?" he called out as he reached them.

"I'll tell you in a minute," said Moreta. "Don't worry, B'lee. See to the dragons."

"Of course," he muttered, and turned to look at Aurieth's neck, but he continued to watch out of the corner of his eye as the helpers pulled D'min down from his perch and stripped off the remains of his flying leathers.

D'min had obviously not fastened his jacket to the top. B'lee recalled that he'd had to wait on the cliff top for more firestone, and it was a warm day. Of course he would have undone his jacket, to prevent him sweating in his wherhide and getting a chill. Trust D'min to forget to re-do it when the sacks had finally arrived. He'd have been throwing firestone down Aurieth's gullet just as fast as she could chew, and never given his clothing another thought. The gap, though, had allowed the Thread to slide between the fleece and his skin, and it hadn't all been killed off _between_. Even as they got him down, Nesso was pouring water over the wound to drown the Thread before it could eat through the bone.

B'lee felt sick. The fragment of Thread pulsed faintly as it died, bloated and oozing pink and grey from the organic matter it had already ingested, while the flesh below was raw and bloody. Ordinary Threadscore was bad enough, but this was a hundred times worse.

"B'lee," Moreta's voice was quiet but commanding. "You can't do anything for D'min right now. See to Aurieth while we take him to the infirmary."

B'lee nodded, dazedly, but it wasn't until Aurieth nudged him in the back that he realised he should be moving, and felt ashamed that he had ignored her pain while he was looking at D'min.

He grabbed a paddle and a cauldron of the thick numbweed ointment and started spreading it over Aurieth's wound. Although shallow, it was long, and it took half an hour before Margroth reported that Aurieth's pain had diminished sufficiently for her to move.

 _Can she fly up to the weyr?_ B'lee asked, then wondered if she would be allowed. They lived in the highest row of weyrs, and it was hardly fair to the healers to ask them to come up all that way.

 _If they cannot climb, I can bring them_ , said Margroth, and B'lee relaxed. Of course, Margroth would help.

Moreta reappeared, and B'lee's thoughts turned immediately to D'min. "How is he?" he asked.

"He's still unconscious - which is a good thing. We've cleansed the wound and reapplied numbweed ointment. Berchar doesn't want him to move for a couple of days so he'll be staying in the infirmary."

"Can I visit him?"

Moreta looked at him shrewdly. "Could I keep you away?" she asked, with a smile.

B'lee shrugged. "Probably not," he admitted.

"Well, then you can tell Berchar I said you could visit. But keep him quiet. No agitation. It's a nasty wound, and he needs to rest as much as possible."

"I'll be quiet."

Moreta nodded and then inspected Aurieth's wing. She directed a little more ichor to be spread over the edge but otherwise pronounced B'lee's treatment acceptable.

"Was anyone else hurt?" he asked, as they moved forward. There had been the brown dragon before them, he recalled, and a couple of other dragons had landed in the bowl since he'd arrived, but he wasn't sure if they were injured or just curious.

Moreta nodded, sadly. "Ponath got laced on the left wingtip, but he'll recover inside a month. A couple of very minor wingtip and tail scorings. No other riders were hurt, luckily." She looked at the irregular scoring on Aurieth's neck and grimaced. "I hate Threadfall when it's windy. So unpredictable."

"Is she going to heal?"

"Yes, I think so." Moreta patted the green hide encouragingly. "She's going to be fine in a few sevendays - a lot sooner than her rider. The wing should heal without much thickening, but there may be a scar on her neck. She should move closer to the Hatching Ground if she can. The heat will help her to heal faster."

With Margroth's help, B'lee moved Aurieth slowly towards the warm sands. Once she had settled within easy reach of a large trough of water, B'lee left her with Margroth hovering nearby and raced over to the infirmary, anxious to find out how his friend was faring. He nearly ran into Tamina on the way but she told him not to hurry. She had rushed to D'min 's side as soon as she heard the news, of course, and had sat with her son while the wound was dressed, but now that he was sleeping she was returning to her weaving room. B'lee gave her a hug and told her that he would sit with D'min for the rest of the day.

He proceeded to the infirmary, but at a normal walking pace, and found that D'min in a quiet room, lying on a low cot, naked to the waist. The wound had been fully exposed and cleansed of the alien material, then covered with numbweed ointment, which covered the wound but didn't hide it. It looked hideous. It extended from jaw to shoulder, a child's hand-breadth wide, and was deep enough to expose muscle tissue and bone. B'lee felt nauseated to think that D'min had been in contact with Thread for so many seconds.

"We've given him fellis juice for the deep pain," said Healer Berchar, reassuringly. "He'll sleep for a few hours, I hope."

"Thank you. How long is it going to take for him to get better?"

Berchar looked very serious, and B'lee's heart sank. Surely D'min was going to get better?

"I think he'll be out of the Wing for several months, B'lee, perhaps half a Turn or more. And that's if things go well."

B'lee gasped. "That long? Why?"

"It's a deep wound, and it lies over some fairly delicate tissue. This depth of Threadscore on his back wouldn't be nearly as bad, but the thin skin of the neck was eaten through in no time, and Thread started to affect the deeper tissues. There's even some bone damage - look, just there," he said, indicating a couple of indentations in the collarbone. "He's very lucky to be alive, you know. If Aurieth hadn't got him back here so quickly ... well, she did, so he has a chance. But it will take a long time for the skin to grow over the wound, and he won't be able to tolerate wherhide for some time after that, so, I wouldn't expect him to return to the Wing until the spring. He'll need a lot of work to stop the shoulder joint freezing up, too."

"Is there anything I can do?"

Berchar looked at him shrewdly. "Be a friend to him. Give him a reason to live," he said, softly.

B'lee nodded, slowly. "I .. we ..." his voice failed, and he gestured, helplessly, as his eyes filled with tears.

Berchar sat him down and patted him on the shoulder. "I know you don't love him, but D'min thinks the world of you. If there's anyone in this Weyr who could help him now, it's you. At least be a friend to him."

"I do love him," whispered B'lee. "I do. I just didn't want to admit it. And now it might be too late!" He clenched his fists, trying hard not to let the tears flow. He was supposed to be strong, he was supposed to be here to support D'min, not to dissolve into tears like a silly girl.

"No, no! It's not too late, B'lee. I know it's a bad wound, but I've seen riders recover from worse. It's not going to be quick or easy, but if he wants to recover, he will. You need to tell him that you love him, and want him back. Tell him over and over, even if he's asleep. It'll get through to him. Hold his hand and let him feel how much you care for him. That will do as much as all my ointments, I promise you."

B'lee nodded, and reached for D'min's hand as Berchar looked on approvingly.

"How's his dragon?"

"She's all right, I think," said B'lee, his eyes never leaving D'min's face. "Her neck wound is long, but not too deep, and the wing is barely touched. Moreta thinks she'll be healed in a few sevendays."

"Excellent!" He stood up. "I'll come back and see how he's going in an hour or two."

"Thank you."

In a moment, he was gone, leaving B'lee alone with D'min.

"I'm sorry, Domin," he whispered. "I'm sorry you went into Threadfall angry. I'm sorry I distracted you. I'm so sorry this happened to you and Aurieth." He bowed his head low, until it was almost resting on D'min's good shoulder. "I'll make it up to you. When you wake up I'll tell you how much I love you, and then everything will be all right."

He turned the hand over in his, looking at the long, elegant fingers - how had he never noticed them before? - and thought back to the time that Margroth had flown Aurieth. D'min's hands on his body had felt wonderful.

He wished he could go back in time to that day, to the moment when he had gone back to his own weyr. He should have stayed in D'min's bed, should have woken up with him and kissed him and told him that he loved him. If he'd done that then, none of this would have happened now, he was sure of that. All this was his fault, because he'd been afraid to admit that he could love a man. He'd been afraid to let go of his Holder upbringing, just as D'min had said. He'd been so afraid of what people might say about him that he had hidden his feelings, and D'min had been hurt, and now D'min was injured and might die and it would all be too late.

He'd been so very stupid.

* * *

Berchar forced him to go back to his weyr to rest, but he couldn't sleep. Margroth had assured him that Aurieth was sleeping, though a little restless, so there was no excuse to return to the Hatching Ground. Instead, he washed the stink of firestone from his body and then wandered around his weyr and D'min's. He looked down at his bed, which was cold and uninviting, and sighed. He remembered the many evenings that D'min had sat there, listening to him play gitar, or talking. He remembered the night that S'gan had died, when they'd slept wrapped around each other for comfort. He remembered the day that D'min had caught him with that idiot H'tan clinging on to him like a dishrag. Almost everything about his life at Fort Weyr was connected to D'min.

He forced himself to lie down, but sleep remained an impossibility. He tossed and turned until just before dawn, trying to imagine what life would be like without D'min and hoping he would never know for real. He got up, eventually, and stood on the ledge, looking east until he saw the first orange glow of the approaching sun, and then dressed himself again, thanking the stars that there was no Threadfall that day.

He visited Aurieth in the Hatching Grounds and found her still asleep, with Margroth lying next to her and their tails intertwined. He smiled to see them, and was glad that whatever awkwardness there was between him and D'min hadn't damaged the bond between the two dragons.

When he got to the infirmary he found, to his surprise, that D'min was already awake and trying to get out of bed. B'lee immediately went to this side to help him.

"Do you need anything?" he asked in a low voice. "I can go and get the healer."

"No, it's all right. I just need to piss."

"Oh, of course. The necessary's just through that door."

D'min stood up, with a little help from B'lee, and they made their way very slowly. D'min relieved himself, and then they began the laborious journey back to his bed. He was trembling by the time they got there, and Healer Berchar came through the door, fussing and tut-tutting as B'lee lifted D'min's feet onto the mattress.

"You really shouldn't be up yet," he said, anxiously.

"It was just a piss. I'll rest now."

"How are you feeling?"

"Sore." D'min lay back down and closed his eyes.

B'lee could see the effort it took, and vowed to do everything he could to help. "Can he have some more numbweed?" he asked.

"Of course. But the wound needs to be cleansed and re-dressed. I'll get you some fellis juice first." He hurried out.

D'min made a face. "I hate fellis juice."

B'lee straightened the sheet, making sure that it didn't touch the wound. "You need it - at least for a day or two. I'm sure Berchar wouldn't make you take it if you didn't really need it."

"How bad is it?"

B'lee hesitated. "Pretty bad. Berchar thinks you should heal up eventually, and regain full use of your shoulder, but it's very deep. The Thread slipped under the collar of your jacket."

D'min frowned. "I don't really remember."

"You'd loosened it, waiting for firestone. You probably forgot to do it up again."

"Probably." He sighed. "It's really starting to hurt now."

B'lee bit his lip. He wished he could do more, but there was nothing he could do at that moment except wait for the healer.

Berchar hurried back with a small dose of fellis juice in wine, which he made D'min take in spite of his protestations. While that took hold, he gathered up the things he would need to dress the wound.

B'lee sat and supported D'min so that Berchar could reach the upper portion of the wound that stretched under D'min's ear and towards the back of the neck. He was glad of the chance to help, even in this small way, and D'min seemed to appreciate it - or at least, to tolerate it. B'lee hadn't really expected him to shy away from his touch, but he knew he couldn't take anything for granted any more.

Once the dressing was replaced, and the numbweed had taken away the residual pain, D'min fell asleep. Since Berchar told him that he was unlikely to wake for several hours, B'lee took the opportunity to visit Aurieth again, and found Moreta already there, looking critically at the wing.

"It's dried out a little, here, do you see?" she pointed at one spot on the wing. "You need to keep a close eye on it - at least twice a day - and make sure that the ichor is thick and gleaming. She'll also need fresh numbweed on that neck wound at the same time."

"Yes, Moreta."

"How's D'min?"

"He's sleeping. Berchar re-dressed his wound this morning and gave him fellis juice."

"Good. About the only thing that'll keep him quiet. Don't let him get up too soon - he has to rest that shoulder, and he won't want to."

"I'll make sure he rests. He won't leave the bed, I promise."

Moreta raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I want to know the details, B'lee ... but anything that ensures we have a functioning dragonrider again is all right by me." She smiled cryptically and wandered off.

B'lee looked at Margroth, who looked back at him impassively. "I think that goes for Aurieth too, you know. Sit on her if you have to, but don't let her move around."

 _I won't._

B'lee set to work, refreshing the numbweed and ichor over the wounds. It took a long time, but Aurieth seemed noticeably more comfortable at the end of it.

"I'll visit you again this evening, and I'll bring more news of D'min," said B'lee as he left.

* * *

D'min was still asleep when he got back, so he settled into the chair by the bed and dozed, waking only when Berchar came in to check on his patient.

"I really think you ought to go back to your weyr, B'lee. You look like you haven't slept at all."

B'lee shook his head. "I'll be here as long as D'min is."

"You'll be no good if you make yourself ill. He needs you to be strong."

"He needs me here. I'll be here."

"When's the next Fall?"

B'lee thought a minute. "Not for a few days. I'll have to check with P'tan."

"You'd better be right. I'm not going to let you sit here if there's work to be done."

B'lee shrugged. He didn't really care. The only thing that matter to him was D'min, and as long as D'min might possibly need something, B'lee would be here to provide it. He wasn't going more than a dragon's-length away from his friend until D'min had woken up and they'd talked and put things right, and he didn't care if he had to argue that in front of the Weyrwoman herself. D'min was - was going to be - his weyrmate, and that was more important to him that anything else in the entire world.

Berchar must have realised B'lee's determination, because he stopped insisting that B'lee leave, and instead got him a mug of klah to drink, and a pillow and a blanket so that he could sleep.

It was the middle of the afternoon when B'lee woke again. Berchar and D'min were talking in low voices, obviously trying not to disturb him, but he'd responded instinctively to the sound of D'min's voice. He grunted and stretched, noting the stiffness in his neck. Berchar was right about one thing - a chair in the infirmary was no place to get a decent sleep.

"How are you?" he asked D'min, who was sitting back against a mound of pillows.

"Not bad. Been better."

Berchar snorted. "An understatement."

D'min smiled. "Make the most of it. I usually exaggerate."

Both B'lee and Berchar had to smile at that. B'lee was happy to see that D'min was recovered enough to make a joke, even a mild one.

"D'min," he started. "Do you mind me being here?"

"No, that's fine. Berchar told me you've been looking after Aurieth. How is she? She's asleep at the moment, and I don't want to wake her."

"She'll be all right - a lot sooner than you will. She has a long score that goes almost around her neck, and a minor score on the leading edge of her right wing. Moreta's been to see her a couple of times and she's not worried. I've been putting ichor on the wing and numbweed on the neck, and Margroth's staying beside her."

"Berchar said the only times you've left have been to see her."

"Well," B'lee shrugged, "I was worried about you both."

He wondered if now was the right time to tell D'min how he felt. It had to be done sooner or later, but he didn't want to do it while D'min was hazy with fellis juice or distracted by pain. Tomorrow, he decided. Tomorrow would be better, when D'min wasn't in quite so much pain.

He helped D'min to readjust the pillows and made sure that he drank plenty of water, as Berchar had directed. He kept the conversation light and undemanding, and knew that he'd made the right decision when he saw D'min's eyelids start to droop. He left D'min sleeping soundly and made a quick trip back to his weyr for a wash and his knitting.

He sat with D'min through the afternoon and evening, and was able to greet all the visitors, including the Weyrwoman and their wingleader, S'peren. Both were dismayed at the extent of D'min's injury and the length of time he would be on the sick list, but there was little that they could do except to reinforce Berchar's edict of complete rest.

"We can't afford to have riders off for longer than is absolutely necessary," said S'peren, with emphasis. "It's bad enough that you're injured, but if I find that you've been doing anything that might delay your recovery, I'll have you on punishment detail for a month when you get back."

"You'd think I was planning to get up and dance on the tables," said D'min in disgust after they'd gone.

B'lee smiled, but added, "They might be thinking of some of your weyrling exploits."

D'min snorted. "That was ages ago. I haven't done anything particularly outrageous in months."

"That's not so long ago. Not for grown-ups, anyway."

D'min stuck his tongue out, and B'lee's smile grew wider. Try as he might, D'min betrayed his youth in every word and protestation. "Just make sure you behave yourself from now on."

After that it was time for B'lee to see to Aurieth, and on his return he found Berchar ready to clean and dress D'min's wound again. It still made B'lee feel ill to see the depth and extent of it, and to realise just how close D'min had come to being killed by Thread. He wondered how much of a scar there would be, and whether it would stop D'min from moving his neck and shoulder normally. Berchar had said he would need a lot of work on it, so he must be anticipating some problems.

D'min fell asleep soon after the dressing was replaced, and B'lee settled down for the night in the chair. Tomorrow ... tomorrow morning he would tell D'min that he loved him.


	15. Confession

_9th month, 36th Turn of the Present Pass_

Naturally, having made a decision to talk to D'min the following morning, B'lee found that he had no opportunity. D'min slept late and B'lee had no time to speak to him before leaving to see to Aurieth. When he got back, with news that Aurieth's wounds were already showing signs that healing had started, he found Berchar with his patient, taking his time over the dressing and muttering dire imprecations if D'min so much as thought of getting up. As soon as Berchar had finished, D'min was visited by several of the other riders, including K'lon and G'lin, both of them former lovers and so potential threats in B'lee's eyes. The last thing B'lee wanted was for D'min to take up with one of them again, but there was nothing he could do - or, to be fair, _would_ do - to stop it if D'min wanted to.

He gritted his teeth, smiled at them and forced himself to leave the room, hoping that his bad temper wasn't too visible. Once outside in the corridor he found himself at a loss. His thoughts had been so thoroughly taken up with D'min and Aurieth the last couple of days that he was unsure what he could do for the hour or so until the noonday meal.

He decided to visit Tamina, who usually had a calming effect on him. She had visited D'min briefly that morning and had had a long discussion with Berchar on the merits of his treatment. B'lee had listened, but most of his attention had been on the sleeping man in the bed, and he had barely said hello to her.

The weaving room was noisy with voices and the sound of the looms. Tamina was busy with a particularly intricate piece of her tapestry, and once she had ascertained that he hadn't come to give her any dire news, her attention kept drifting back to the tapestry. B'lee contented himself with a smile and a hug, and decided to leave her in peace.

He called in on P'tan and checked the Threadfall time and fighting plan for the next day, and was waylaid by some riders in 4 Wing and others, all of whom wanted to know how D'min was getting on. He had to describe the extent of D'min's wound several times, and was alternately alarmed and reassured by their conflicting predictions about D'min's recovery.

He ate a hurried lunch in the dining hall, gobbling his food so quickly that everyone around him warned of indigestion, but he didn't care. As soon as he saw that K'lon and G'lin had entered, he pushed his plate away and stood up. He had to get back to the infirmary and talk to D'min.

Unfortunately for B'lee's plans, D'min seemed to be exhausted after the lively discussion he'd had with the other riders, and was picking at his lunch listlessly. He was soon asleep, and remained so for much of the afternoon, not even stirring when D'ran came in. B'lee gave D'ran a brief update on his son's condition, and promised to let him know if anything changed. Then he returned to his knitting, stopping only when he ran out of wool.

He slipped out to visit the dragons before D'min woke, hoping that he'd be back in time to help Berchar with the dressings. At the Hatching Ground, he found that Margroth had hunted for two, and Aurieth was crunching the bones of a fat wherry and looking much more like her usual self when he arrived. Her wing needed more ichor, and the neck wound had to be cleansed and then have fresh numbweed salve applied, but all in all she was doing much better than her rider.

Once Aurieth had settled comfortably back onto the warm sand, B'lee returned to the infirmary, determined to talk to D'min and spend as much time as possible with him before Threadfall the following day.

D'min was awake, and looked a little better than he had earlier in the day. He wasn't quite as exhausted, and his eyes had a little sparkle in them. Berchar even allowed him to sit up for a while after the dressing, against a bank of pillows. B'lee took that as a good sign, and as soon as they were alone he decided to broach the subject that had been on his mind for the last few days.

"D'min," he began, rather tentatively.

"Hmm?"

"I need to talk to you about something."

"Is it Aurieth? Is the wound not healing?"

"No, no, it's nothing like that. She's fine - I told you before, she'll be well long before you will. No, it's ... something else. About you and me."

"What about us? We're still friends, aren't we? I mean, I know I was stupid to let this happen, but I never thought that you'd want to stop being my friend." He looked a little agitated, and B'lee hurried to interrupt him before he could work himself into a frenzy of worry.

"Don't worry," he said, reaching forward and taking hold of D'min's hand. "It's nothing like that. We'll always be friends - at least, I hope so - and your injury has nothing to do with it, except to remind me that I should have said this before, and I'm sorry I didn't."

He took a deep breath. This was not going to be easy, and he could only hope that D'min would hear him out. "I've been an idiot, D'min, I know I have. Worse than an idiot, and you'd be well within your rights to tell me to go away. Only I would really rather you listen to me first, and then you can decide what you want to do."

D'min started to look alarmed. "B'lee, what are you talking about?"

B'lee shook his head, and continued speaking - he didn't dare stop, not now, not after having finally plucked up the courage to speak. "Listen first. I wanted to say that I'm sorry I've been so horrible to you. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you more and try to understand.

"When I met you ... I knew when I met you that you were someone special, but I just didn't realise what was happening to me. I ... you know I was Hold-bred, I never even heard about men sleeping with other men until I got to the Weyr, and I didn't know it was possible to fall in love with a man. I still liked girls and I thought - I honestly thought - that all I felt was friendship, and you kept wanting more and more, and I didn't know what to do. I know I pushed you away a couple of times, and I'm really sorry about that. I know - I know _now_ \- how much that must have hurt.

D'min looked worried and a little sad. "It's all right, B'lee," he started. "I never expected you to switch sides, you know. It was just teasing ... mostly."

B'lee still held D'min's hand in his, and his thumb was rubbing over the back of those elegant fingers. "I know that. But sometimes I thought it might be something more, and that worried me. Then, a few months ago, I started having these dreams ... dreams about being with a man. It scared me at first, and I wondered if I was turning homo. I tried to ask you about it, but it all got mixed up, and then I tried to ask S'been, and he took it the wrong way and tried to kiss me, and I ended up talking to Healer Berchar, only he told me it was just because I hadn't been with anyone in a while."

D'min snorted with amusement and exasperation, and B'lee had to smile. "Yes, it was stupid. But I knew it wasn't just because I hadn't had sex in a while. I knew it was something more, but I still wasn't really prepared to work it out. Then I started seeing the face of the man in the dream ... and it was you, and I realised I wanted you."

He swallowed, and shook his head again as D'min opened his mouth. "When Margroth flew Aurieth and we lay together ... that was the most intense I'd ever felt anything in my life. It wasn't what I thought it would be. I really thought I would die from it. I wanted to tell you how much it meant to me, but you were so quiet and then you fell asleep, and I got up to take a piss and when I came back you curled up against the wall and I wasn't sure whether to get back into bed or not, and I think I made the wrong decision, because I went back to my own bed.

"You ... it wasn't because you were ashamed of it?"

"No! It was ... it was unbelievably good. It was just a shock, and I wasn't sure how you would react."

"I wasn't sure how you would react, either. I thought you'd be really disgusted with me."

"No. I thought you were amazing. I had no idea that you could be so wonderful ... so giving. Just the memory of your face ... I kept thinking about that, and I wanted more. I tried to tell myself it was just the sex, but it wasn't. I wanted you. The next day I tried to explain, but you were so adamant that it was just dragonlust ... I wondered if you had found someone else and didn't want me getting in the way."

D'min shook his head.

B'lee shrugged. "Well, I didn't know that. All I knew was that I kept thinking about you, I thought I might love you and you didn't love me back." He shrugged. "So I thought I'd try to be a friend, still, only you kept on pushing me away. I couldn't understand why. I just knew I had to keep on being there for you in case you needed me."

"B'lee," said D'min. "Billee ... is it true, what you're saying? You're not just leading me on?"

"No," protested B'lee. "I mean, yes, it's true. I wouldn't lead you on. Never."

"I thought you didn't mean it. Shells, B'lee, you'd been telling me for two years that you didn't love me, how was I supposed to know you'd suddenly changed your mind? I thought you'd fallen for H'tan!"

"No! I know you thought that, and I'm sorry. But that was just the guys making a story out of nothing. It was you I wanted all along, only I thought you'd moved on and were in love with someone else who was treating you badly. I've been nearly out of my mind trying to work out what to do. Then, when you were injured ... I thought for a moment you were going to die, like S'gan, and I couldn't bear it. I knew then that I had to tell you, as soon as I could, and let you decide."

"Decide what?"

B'lee took a deep breath. "If you still want to be friends. I love you, D'min. I've loved you for a long time, and I'm so sorry that I couldn't - _wouldn't_ \- see it. I know I hurt you, so many times, just because I wouldn't let myself see how much you meant to me. I'll always be sorry I hurt you. But I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But it's up to you to decide now, if you want to us to be friends, or something more. Or less."

D'min was silent for a long time, and B'lee wondered if he was upset, angry, shocked or simply asleep. When he dared to look, D'min was staring at the far wall, his expression set so rigidly that B'lee had no idea what he was thinking.

The silence stretched from natural to awkward, to downright embarrassing. Finally B'lee could take it no longer and said, "I'm sorry. I'll just go." He was halfway to the door when D'min's voice stopped him.

"Don't go."

He turned around and saw D'min watching him. The blank, expressionless look had gone, replaced by panic. B'lee wasn't sure if that was much of an improvement, but at least D'min didn't want him to leave.

He stook by the door, not sure if he should stay there (in case D'min was angry and was going to shout at him, in which case the further away the better) or to move back to the bed.

The D'min tried to reach out with his injured arm and winced at the pain, and B'lee found that his body was quite happy to make decisions without any conscious input from his brain, because the next moment he was there beside D'min, supporting him and saying "You shouldn't move that arm. It hurts you."

"I know it hurts," said D'min, letting B'lee take some of his weight. "It's my bloody arm."

B'lee put his arms right around D'min and hugged him, trying not to let his hands anywhere near the injury.

"Did you mean any of that?" asked D'min.

"I meant all of it."

"You really love me?"

"I really love you. But it's all right if you don't love me back."

At those words, D'min pulled back and looked right into B'lee's eyes. "B'lee, you are a fardling idiot. If I had any sense at all I'd throw you out now because there's no way I could be in love with anyone that stupid."

Bemused, B'lee looked at him, unable to conceal the hope that had sprung up at D'min's words. "You ... you do love me?"

D'min snorted. "Of course I love you. I've loved you since the day we met."

"Oh," said B'lee, faintly. "But I thought you'd moved on. You were so ... so distant the last couple of months. I thought it was just my bad luck to fall in love with you at the same time that you got over your crush on me."

"I'll never get over you, idiot," said D'min, fervently, and kissed him.

B'lee went rigid. In spite of D'min's words, he was still shocked by the unexpected kiss.

D'min pulled back immediately. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice stern and his eyes suspicious.

"Yes! Yes, I am," replied B'lee, frantic that he might have jeopardised everything with his reaction. "Sorry. I just didn't expect you to kiss me."

"It is the normal thing to do after a declaration of love."

B'lee shrugged. "When have we ever done anything the normal way?" He sighed. "Try it again. I'll be ready this time."

D'min huffed, which B'lee considered was a step up from a snort, but his eyes were smiling as he reached behind B'lee's head with his left arm and pulled him close. This time, the kiss was everything that was desired. The touch of D'min's lips started a tingle in B'lee's gut, one that deepened and spread as the kiss progressed. When D'min's tongue started lapping at his lips, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to open his mouth, and the sensation of D'min's tongue sliding into him sent a jolt through his body that ignited every nerve.

They made small adjustments to their positions, inching closer and wrapping their arms tightly around each other's body. The kiss deepened, and B'lee found himself pushing his own tongue into D'min's mouth, setting off another jolt. He touched lips, teeth and palate, all the while thinking how much better, how much more satisfying this felt than anything he had ever done with a girl. Even the small sounds that D'min was making in his throat were amazing.

They had to separate to breathe, but B'lee felt D'min's lips trailing over his cheek and jaw and finding an incredibly sensitive spot just under his ear. He shuddered and inhaled sharply, and heard D'min laugh triumphantly beside him.

"I can't believe you just said that you love me," said D'min. "Are you sure you're not just making fun of me?"

"I do love you," he said, firmly. "I wasn't making fun of you, and I wasn't teasing you. I've loved you for a long time, but I was just too stupid to realise it. You always did tell me I was terrible at noticing things."

"I thought you liked girls."

"So did I." He shrugged. "And I did like girls - I never lied about that. But I was never able to find the right one. I kept telling myself I'd know her when I saw her, but I was only looking at girls. It never crossed my mind that the 'right one' was going to be a boy. If I'd been a little more open, a little less _Hold-bred_ ,” he squeezed D'min's waist for emphasis, "I might have recognised what I felt a bit sooner. I just thought we were friends - good friends, best friends, but still friends."

"We are friends."

"I know we are, but I want us to be more than friends."

D'min grinned. "B'lee, I've just had my tongue down your throat and you didn't object. I think I can safely say that we are more than friends."

B'lee felt his face reddening - D'min was laughing at him so he knew it was visible - but he managed to nod.

"Oh, B'lee, I love you and all your silly Hold-bred inhibitions."

"Well, I and all my inhibitions love you back."

"Kiss me again."

So B'lee took D'min in his arms and kissed him until they were both breathless. And it felt right, and good, and there was no little voice in the back of his head telling him that he ought to be kissing a girl. It felt like coming home.

* * *

By the time that B'lee was chased out of the infirmary to go to dinner, he and D'min had talked over many things that had troubled them both over the previous few months. They had also kissed enough that their lips were swollen and red, and Berchar had smiled knowingly and warned B'lee that D'min was still a patient and was not to be mauled about until the wound had healed.

D'min pouted, which B'lee, in his love-addled state, thought was adorable, and sneaked an additional kiss while Berchar wasn't looking. Then he left, promising to come back straight after the meal. Then he had to promise that he wouldn't keep D'min awake by talking or kissing or doing any one of the several things that B'lee urgently wanted to do, now that he knew that D'min loved him.

He wandered through the corridor in a daze. He didn't really feel like eating, but he'd missed breakfast and had barely eaten lunch, and it was just vaguely possible that the light-headed and dizzy feeling he had was due to hunger as well as to the fact that he'd just been thoroughly kissed for an hour by the most attractive man in the Weyr.

D'min loved him. D'min had said that he'd loved him for ages.

He felt like hitting his head against the wall ... repeatedly. He really was the stupidest man on Pern, without a doubt. All this time D'min had been moping around, it hadn't been because of some anonymous rider treating him badly, it was because it was B'lee he loved, and he thought that B'lee didn't love him. D'min had been breaking his heart over the one man who was desperately in love with him but too afraid to show it because he thought that D'min was in love with someone else!

He bumped into someone, and apologised before looking up. It was K'lon, but instead of glowering, as he had earlier in the day, B'lee smiled at him.

K'lon was visibly startled. "What's got into you? You look like you've met the girl of your dreams."

B'lee laughed, and almost bounced up and down on the spot. K'lon wasn't a threat any more, and he'd probably want to know that D'min was happy. "I have. Only it's not a girl."

"Not a girl?"

"No. It's D'min."

"You and D'min?"

"That's right."

Before he knew what was happening, B'lee found himself being hugged and spun around. "That's fantastic!" cried K'lon, beaming as he set B'lee back down on the ground. "I told him he ought to tell you, but he was too scared."

"Tell me what?"

"That he's been in love with you since Impression, of course." Then K'lon stopped, a worried look on his face. "Did I get it wrong?"

"No, you didn't. But I was the one who told D'min - I said I loved him and then he kissed me."

"Good for you. And good for D'min."

"Thank you."

"Ah well, I'd better go and tell M'ken the bad news."

"Bad news?"

"Well, it will be to M'ken. He was convinced you'd switch one day, you know, and he thought he'd be in with a chance when you did."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. You and D'min belong together. Anyone with sense can see that."

B'lee nodded. "We do. We do belong together."

K'lon smiled.

"K'lon, would you mind not telling M'ken - or anyone else - just for the moment? Its going to take a bit of getting used to, and I'd rather no one knew until D'min's up and about again."

K'lon looked a little worried, and B'lee hastened to reassure him. "I'm not changing my mind. I do love him. It's just that I want us to get used to it in private before everyone else knows. That's all."

K'lon nodded, though he still didn't look convinced. "All right, I won't tell anyone. But I think you're making a mistake. D'min's popular, and he'll have a lot of randy riders around him if you're not careful."

"I'll keep them away. Don't you worry about that," promised B'lee, almost growling.

K'lon laughed. "Maybe you will. You've been like a dragon with one egg for the last few months anyway."

"Was it that obvious?"

"It was to me, and maybe a couple of others. But it wasn't common gossip."

"Well, that's a relief."

"Go and eat," K'lon told him. "I'll visit D'min tomorrow and tease him a little, but I won't tell anyone. All right?"

"Thanks."

And with that, K'lon took off down the corridor again, towards the stairs that led to the weyrs on the south wall. B'lee watched his retreating back for a few more seconds, then hurried to dinner. He didn't want to spend a moment longer than necessary away from his weyrmate.


	16. Convalescence

_Late Summer, 36thTurn of the Present Pass._

Convalescence was hard for D'min. He was the sort of man who was rarely sick, and as he recovered from the shock of injury the enforced inactivity made him as fractious as a sunburned watch-wher, in spite of his new-found happiness with B'lee.

He desperately wanted to see Aurieth, to check that her wounds were healing. Berchar refused to allow him to walk that far, so one afternoon, ten days after the injury, B'lee borrowed a chair with wheels that was normally used to carry one of the oldest uncles.

"I'm not getting into that thing!" exclaimed D'min when he saw it.

"Well, it's the only way you're going to see Aurieth this side of winter," said B'lee, disappointed that D'min didn't like his brilliant idea. "Berchar can't complain that you're over-exerting yourself if you're sitting down, now, can he?"

"I don't want to look like I can't walk by myself."

"Don't worry, we can tell anyone who asks that it's Berchar's orders. Now do you want to see Aurieth or not?"

Still grumbling, D'min lowered himself gingerly into the chair, and B'lee wrapped a loose piece of linen over the wound to protect it from the dust outside.

"I look like an invalid," muttered D'min.

"You are an invalid," said B'lee. "But you're getting better, and so is Aurieth."

The sunlight was almost painfully bright after so long indoors, and D'min shielded his eyes as they approached the lake, where Aurieth had been bathing. She ambled up and dropped her great head onto his lap, almost upsetting the chair. D'min yelped, but managed to extract himself from the chair and stood up to scratch her eye-ridges with his good arm. Aurieth crooned, and B'lee moved to make a fuss of Margroth, in case he felt that he was missing out.

 _She's getting a lot better_ , he commented to his dragon as he smoothed his hands over the iridescent blue hide. _I'm glad you've been looking after her._

 _She needs me_ , said Margroth, in a gratified tone. _And she is happy that you are looking after her rider._

 _I love him, you know. Does that bother you?_

 _Why should it? He is not a dragon and cannot replace me._

 _No, he'll never replace you. You're mine forever._

Margroth dipped his head and B'lee scratched the eye-ridges for him, hearing Margroth's happy rumble.

 _Are you going to oil me today? I am itchy under my left wing._

 _Oh, Margroth, I'm so sorry!_ B'lee felt mortified. Although the dragons had reached almost their full growth, they still needed periodic grooming and oiling to keep the skin from going dry and flaky, and since the accident, he'd only given Margroth a hasty inspection before putting on the riding straps. Sure enough, B'lee discovered a flaky patch under the left wing, and hurried off to get some salve.

While D'min sat back in his chair and dozed in the sun, B'lee spent the next couple of hours doing a thorough inspection of both Margroth and Aurieth, and oiled their hides wherever there was the slightest hint of dryness. He was exhausted at the end of it, and resolved to enlist the help of the weyrling class, or at least a couple of weyrbrats, to keep their hides in order while he was still spending so much time with D'min.

Once he'd finished, he refreshed himself with a dip in the lake, lying back in the water and looking up at the blue, blue sky. It was late in the summer, and in a couple of sevendays he'd be 22 Turns old. What a difference the year had made! This time last year he had been just a weyrling, learning to fly _between_ and still getting used to having a bedchamber all his own. S'gan had been with them then, and B'lee felt a momentary pang as he remembered the cheerful blond lad who had made them all laugh with his jokes. Well, S'gan was gone, but D'min was still here, thanks be to all the stars, and D'min would be back fighting Thread in a few months.

He saw the weyrling class appear in the sky above the watch-heights, and realised that the afternoon had passed more quickly than he had anticipated. He ought to get D'min back to the infirmary before he got sunburned, and then - he groaned - it would be time to come back and re-do Aurieth's ointment.

Ah well, he thought, as he gently shook D'min's good shoulder to wake him, with Thread being what it was, there was no doubt that D'min would be doing this for B'lee and Margroth some day, and probably as willingly, so he shouldn't complain.

* * *

A few days later, once Berchar was happy that D'min didn't need all-day care, he was moved to one of the small ground-level guest weyrs, close to the bathing pool and not far from the dining hall. It was a small chamber, intended for one occupant, but B'lee found that there was room in the cot for two, provided that they didn't move around a great deal.

B'lee did everything he could for his friend, including helping him to bathe and eat. D'min was strongly right-handed, and found that he was clumsy with his left, so B'lee helped to cut up his food and made sure that his buttons and lacings were fastened correctly.

It was lucky that the room was warm, in that mysterious way that all the rooms in Fort Weyr were warm, because D'min was unable to wear any shirt yet. Berchar didn't want the slightest amount of pressure or friction on the healing tissue, so D'min went bare-chested day and night. It was comfortable for him, but not for B'lee, who was constantly reminded that although he and D'min had kissed - repeatedly - they hadn't gone any further yet and weren't likely to for some time. He had almost a permanent half-erection these days, and groaned whenever he thought about the many sevendays between now and when D'min would be able to tolerate lovemaking.

A few days after they moved into the guest room, during which time D'min had been more than usually fractious, B'lee finally asked him what was wrong. In spite of D'min's attempts to deny anything, he eventually managed to extract a confession.

"It's just that I really need a wank, and I can't use my hand."

"Oh." B'lee didn't know if he should laugh or attempt to be sympathetic. He could certainly feel some sympathy with D'min - after all, neither of them had had any relief for a while. "Why can't you use the other hand?"

"Because my shoulders still tense up and it hurts. I've tried. Believe me, I've tried." He gave B'lee a speculative look. "I don't suppose you'd fuck me, would you?"

"Berchar would skin me alive. He said absolutely nothing that might damage the wound." Then an idea came to him. "Umm ... I could ... I mean, if you wanted, I ... I could do it for you."

D'min blushed - actually blushed - as he realised what B'lee was offering. "You'd - er - umm ..."

"Well ... yes. If you wanted."

They sat in embarrassed silence for a minute, then D'min cleared his throat and nodded. "Umm ... I'd really like that," he said, shyly, and didn't meet B'lee's gaze.

B'lee leaned forward to kiss him. "I'd really like that, too," he breathed. He sat down on the bed next to D'min. "Move forward," he ordered.

"Now?"

"Yes, now. Unless you'd prefer to wait a few more days."

"No!" D'min, exclaimed, alarmed, and moved forward.

B'lee wriggled around until he was sitting between his lover and the wall. "Lean back against me," he directed. "That way I know I won't hurt you."

D'min leaned back against B'lee's chest, and let his head fall into the natural hollow of B'lee's shoulder. B'lee wrapped his arms around him and started to undo the lacings of his pants. D'min groaned as B'lee's hand brushed over what was already a rock-hard erection.

He slid his hand inside and almost tentatively took hold of D'min's cock. He remembered it being of admirable proportions, but he hadn't held it like this before, and now he was able to appreciate the length and thickness and the way it stirred in his hand.

He gripped a little more firmly and drew his fist up the length, smiling as he heard D'min's deep groan. The sound made him realise that he was hard himself, and he pushed forward slightly to increase the friction he was getting from D'min's movements.

He pushed D'min's pants further down with his other hand and delved down to find his balls, feeling D'min arch his hips up at this new touch. He kissed D'min's neck, and then licked the salty skin, all his senses overwhelmed by the totality of his lover's response.

He tried a few more slow strokes, and was rewarded by inarticulate sounds and curses as D'min squirmed. His other hand crept deeper and deeper until he was able to press the sensitive skin behind D'min's balls, teasing tiny circles with his fingers

"Oh, fuck me, B'lee, please, fuck me."

And that sent a surge of desire through him, making him even harder, and he pressed up against D'min's buttocks. "Soon, love," he managed to gasp, rubbing his cheek against D'min's hair. "Not today, but soon."

D'min groaned and arched and sweated under his hands, and B'lee revelled in the fact that it was he who was eliciting these responses. No matter who D'min had slept with in the past, for now and the future he was all B'lee's, and that thought gave him a deep and profound satisfaction.

He increased the speed of his strokes and in a very short while D'min gave a convulsive arch forward and spilled all down the front of his pants. He rest back against B'lee's shoulder and took several deep breaths.

"Shells! That was fantastic," he breathed. "If it's that good with just your hand, I can't wait to teach you how to suck my cock."

B'lee's erection gave a twitch, as if to indicate its agreement with that, and both of them laughed.

"I wish I could help you with that," said D'min as he pressed back against B'lee. "But I guess you'll have to deal with it yourself. I wish I could watch you. I bet you look amazing when you come."

Now it was B'lee's turn to blush, and he started to move out from behind D'min. "I'll just have to wait until later, I guess."

"Why wait? Why not do it here, in front of me?"

"What? Do that?"

"Why not? You did me. How can it be worse to do yourself?" D'min turned until he could kiss B'lee, holding him with his good arm. "And I really, really want to watch you."

B'lee bit his lip. "I don't want anyone to walk in."

"You weren't worried about that a minute ago."

"That was you on display. This is me."

"Are you really worried? We could bar the door with something. Not that anyone's likely to check up on me at this time of night."

B'lee got up and put a chair in front of the door, then turned back to D'min.

"Come here," said D'min, and reached for B'lee's laces as soon as he was within reach. "Let's see what you've got for me."

B'lee couldn't help gasping as D'min's hand found his cock, and he moved forward without thinking, in order to give D'min better access.

"Take your pants down and kneel on the bed in front of me," ordered D'min.

B'lee complied, though he felt his face going even more red as he climbed onto the bed. The tunic wasn't long enough to hide anything, and he felt awkward with his private parts visible, even if it was just to D'min. He'd never done this in front of anyone before, not even as an apprentice in the Harperhall, and he felt embarrassed.

"Take your tunic off."

He reached down and drew the tunic over his head, dropping it beside him. Now he was completely naked, completely exposed, and he could feel D'min looking at him.

"Touch yourself."

He was reluctant, but he saw D'min's face, and the dark eyes and intense expression made him shiver. D'min wanted this, and he wanted to give his lover the enjoyment of watching him. With that in mind, he spread his knees slightly so that D'min could see him clearly, then reached down with his right hand as he usually did, but more slowly, brushing over the hairs on his chest and abdomen. He took a couple of pulls to get himself fully erect, and then started a regular stroke. He watched D'min watching him, and knew that this was making his lover hard again. It was exciting to see the effect that he had on D'min, the effect that his body had on the one in front of him. He used his left hand to stroke down his inner thigh, adding to the sensory stimulus. Then he cradled his balls, feeling the roughness of the skin at his fingertips.

It was getting easier, doing this in front of D'min, who was certainly giving every evidence that he was enjoying the show - his mouth was slightly open and his eyes were firmly fixed on B'lee's cock, which was now wet and glistening at the head.

B'lee took his hand off the shaft and ran a fingertip over the head, spreading the fluid around. It felt wonderful.

D'min grabbed his hand and brought it up to his mouth. D'min's tongue was hot and wet, and B'lee moaned at the sight and feel of his lover licking the fluid off his finger.

"You taste good," whispered D'min. "I can't wait to suck you off." He licked up and down B'lee's fingers again, swirling his tongue around to catch every inch of skin.

B'lee groaned, and pulled his hand back so that he could start pumping himself in earnest. The wet skin on his cock just made everything worse, and he knew he was about to come. "I want you, D'min," he managed to get out. "Want to feel you, want to be inside you."

"I want you inside me," growled D'min. "Want you hard and fast, shooting inside me."

That was all it took, and B'lee was spurting all over his hand and the bedclothes.

He looked at D'min, and saw how aroused the boy was again.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I think I've just made things worse for you, not better."

D'min smiled. "Don't be sorry for that. It was the most erotic thing I've ever seen." He leaned in for a kiss. "And as soon as you've recovered, you can bring me off again, and then we can go to sleep."

B'lee thought that was an excellent idea.

* * *

B'lee had specifically requested that he not be given any duties on the first day of the tenth month, the day of the Fort Hold Harvest Gather, so that he could spend it with D'min, who was still prohibited from flying and from going _between._

At nearly a month after the injury, the wound was still raw in the centre but starting to heal at the edges, and there was a distinct margin of new, bright pink skin. Every day B'lee washed it and re-applied the unguents prescribed by Master Berchar. He made sure to tell D'min how clean the base was looking, and how the skin was growing in from the edges. Once it was all covered with redwort and numbweed again, he generally stayed with D'min until he fell asleep, or until he was called away for Threadfall or some other duty.

D'min was strong enough to take short walks in the immediate area of the lower caverns, and Berchar had agreed that it would be a good idea for him to get out of the guest room for a while. He was strictly forbidden from doing anything that might get dirt into the wound, which meant no exploring the back caverns or sneaking down to the kitchens. Usually the Weyr bowl was off limits, too, because of the dust that was stirred up by the frequent arrivals and departures of dragons, but Berchar considered that it was safe to risk it occasionally for the sake of getting a little sunlight on the wound, providing that it was washed and dressed immediately on D'min's return to the caverns.

Since there was no question of them attending the gather as they had the previous year, B'lee thought it might be a good idea to stroll around the Weyr bowl to the caldera lake and the Hatching Grounds, where they would spend a little time with Aurieth and Margroth. He'd arranged with Seglinder, the Head Cook, to pick up a picnic lunch to take with them, which would spare D'min the necessity of walking all the way back in the middle of the day, especially if, as he hoped, they ended up in D'min's old weyr to take in the afternoon sun.

It was an inspired choice. The wound on Aurieth's neck had closed over, but needed frequent applications of oil to keep the new hide supple until the scar matured. The leading edge of her wing was still raw in spots, but there was no more ichor coming out, so on Moreta's direction B'lee had been applying redwort in wherry-grease, which kept the wound from drying out or getting infected. Aurieth was much happier in herself now that she wasn't in pain, and Margroth had a hard time stopping her from making test flights.

D'min made a huge fuss of her, scratching her eye-ridges and murmuring endearments for many minutes, while B'lee thanked Margroth for continuing to watch her, and took the opportunity to check for any more dry patches. There were none, and Margroth denied any itches, so he relaxed against the iridescent blue hide and waited for D'min to realise that Aurieth was not the only being in the Weyr.

 _Aurieth is very happy_ , rumbled Margroth.

 _So is D'min._

 _She worries that he will not return to the Wing._

 _He will_ , B'lee reassured him. _It will be a long time, though - Berchar still says it will be after Winter Solstice, because of having to wear wher-hide._

 _That is a long time away_

 _At least four months. But he will get better_.

Once D'min was satisfied that Aurieth was healing, Margroth took them both up to the ledge of D'min's weyr, and they scrambled off. Margroth hastened back down to Aurieth, but promised to come back for them as soon as B'lee called.

B'lee looked around, and was glad he'd had this idea. He hurried inside and grabbed a couple of chairs, bringing them out on the ledge so that D'min could sit in comfort. The sun was strong and warm, and he knew it would do D'min some good to sit here and watch the comings and goings of the Weyr without being disturbed by dust or by careless inquiries as to his health.

D'min echoed his feelings when he said, "It's good to be up here again, even if it's only for a few hours. I was going mental down in that cramped little room."

"I know. But you'll be back up here soon."

"As soon as Aurieth can fly."

"That will only be a couple more sevendays. But she'll have to take it easy at first - she hasn't flown in a month, remember."

"I know. But weyr to bowl once or twice a day won't hurt her. And I'll do a couple of laps of the rim just to tone her up a little."

"She can do them on her own. You're not flying anywhere for the time being."

D'min made a face at him, but didn't argue, since he'd already been told this by Berchar, Moreta and S'peren.

They sat in companionable silence and watched the activity down in the bowl. There was always something going on - people walking from lower caverns to the caldera lake, dragonets waddling about, small herdbeasts being driven to the feeding grounds - and B'lee was amazed once more at how organised everything was. But then, they had to be - fighting Thread three or four days out of every seven left little time to spare, and the rules and routines meant that the remaining time was used to its fullest extent.

He found that he could identify most of the people down there, even from this height, by the way they moved. Dragonriders were easy, of course, but even the lower caverns staff were familiar to him now after two and a half years at the Weyr. A group of children cavorted in the lake, and B'lee was fairly sure that D'min's brother Dokkerin was among them - he was eight now, and developing a beautiful singing voice. B'lee thought he might make a harper if he didn't impress, and made a note to explore the subject with Curmir, the newly-appointed Weyr Harper who had replaced Willan.

After an hour or so, B'lee noticed that D'min starting shifting around in his seat.

"Is your shoulder troubling you?" he asked.

"A bit," admitted D'min. "I don't want to go back yet, though," he added, hurriedly.

"I wasn't going to suggest it. I thought you might want a bit of a back rub."

D'min smiled at him gratefully. "That would be fantastic."

B'lee moved around until he was behind D'min, and started kneading the tense knots in his shoulders. "Remember the day after the Hatching? You did this for me."

"Mm, I remember that. You weren't used to scrubbing dragons."

"Your hands felt very good."

"So do yours."

Safe in the knowledge that no one would see from the bowl, B'lee dropped a kiss onto D'min's hair and continued his massage.

D'min made a couple of small rumbling noises in his throat, and B'lee laughed. "You sound like Margroth when you do that."

"I do not."

"Yes, you do. Like a dragonling."

D'min snorted, but B'lee could see the smile teasing at the corners of his mouth. Then he had an idea. "Why don't I grab the sleeping furs off both our cots and bring them out here? It would be more comfortable than these chairs."

"Good idea."

B'lee hurried through D'min's weyr and into his own, returning with the promised bundle of furs. He arranged them against the rock face and pulled D'min down to sit in front of him. D'min sat against B'lee's chest and let his fall back into the very convenient hollow of B'lee's shoulder.

"Mmm, nice," he murmured. "I think I'll have a nap."

"You do that." B'lee put his arms around his lover and made sure that he was safe and secure, then tilted his own head back against the rock and dozed. He figured they'd wake in plenty of time to get down for dinner.

"B'lee?"

"Mmm?"

"Thank you for making this a good day."

"You're welcome, love."


	17. Acceptance

_Autumn, 36th Turn of the Present Pass_

As expected, Aurieth was given clearance to fly ten days later, six sevendays after her injury. She returned to her weyr, and D'min was released from the cramped room he'd occupied for the last month.

B'lee marked the occasion with a purloined flask of wine (from Tillek, unfortunately, but he'd sweetened it with redberry juice) and surprised D'min by taking him to bed.

"Are you sure?" asked D'min, uncharacteristically hesitant. "Berchar said I'm not to exert myself."

B'lee grinned. "I asked K'lon how best to do it -"

"What?" D'min sputtered.

"Well, it was either him or S'been, and I couldn't find S'been."

"But -"

"And then I asked Berchar if doing it that way would hurt you, and he said no, as long as I was careful."

"You asked _Berchar_?"

"Well, I had to be sure." He took D'min in his arms and kissed him gently. "I asked them both not to mention it to anyone. But I want to do this right, and I don't want to hurt you or damage you."

"You'd never hurt me."

"I might, if I didn't know what I was doing. That's why I asked K'lon."

D'min almost blushed. "I can't believe you asked K'lon about sex."

B'lee shrugged, but he was a little red himself, and he knew it. "He took you through Aurieth's first time. I figured he would know what you like and what you don't."

D'min nodded. "He does."

"So he said if you lie on your left side and I'm behind you, it shouldn't do any harm, and Berchar agreed. So that's what I want to do. If you do, that is. If you're not ready, I can wait."

"Wait? You've got to be joking!" So saying, D'min grabbed B'lee with his good hand and pulled him in for a searing kiss. "There. I'm ready. Now fuck me hard, because I think I'll die if you don't."

B'lee didn't laugh. He held D'min close and kissed him until they were both breathless, then dragged him over to the cot. D'min was still going shirtless, so all B'lee had to do was untie the lacings on D'min's trousers and his lover was naked before him. He quickly stripped off his own clothing and kissed D'min again. "I love you," he growled. "I'm going to claim you."

"Yes," breathed D'min, and put both hands on B'lee's arse.

B'lee smiled and moved closer, until their erect cocks were squeezed tightly between them.

"Mmm, yes," said D'min, his hands kneading B'lee's buttocks. "At least now you don't shy away when I get grabby."

"I like you grabby."

D'min gave a crafty smile. "Grabbing you or grabbing anyone?"

B'lee felt a flare of jealousy. "Me," he said, firmly. "From now on your hands stay well away from other riders. And craftsmen. And anyone else who isn't me."

D'min raised an eyebrow. "A bit possessive, aren't you?"

"You'd better believe it." He pulled D'min in for another kiss. "You're mine. I don't care who you had in the past, from now on you're mine, and only mine."

D'min shivered and smiled. "I'm yours ... and only yours."

B'lee pushed him down onto the bed, and made sure that he was comfortable on his left side. "Where's the salve?"

"On the shelf, there. Make sure you get the right pot," cautioned D'min. "This is one time we definitely don't want the numbweed ointment!"

B'lee giggled, but made sure that he sniffed the pot before dipping his finger inside. "It's not numbweed, I assure you."

"Good. You remember what to do?"

B'lee placed his fingers between D'min's legs. "In here, and roll it around so everything's coated." He matched action to words, and D'min moaned appreciatively.

"That's right. Oh, that feels good."

B'lee added a second finger and listened to D'min's moans getting louder and deeper. He loved how D'min's voice became so deep and dark in passion - it never failed to make B'lee harder and more possessive than ever. A third finger had D'min squirming and pleading, but, mindful of K'lon's advice, he waited until he could fit all four fingers in comfortably before withdrawing and covering his cock in more salve.

He placed himself at the entrance to D'min's body and asked, "Are you ready?"

D'min pushed backwards. "I've been ready for the last five minutes. Get inside me, now!"

B'lee pushed, and gasped at the intensity of the sensation - D'min was even tighter than he remembered. He bit his lip, the pain helping to bring himself back under control and warding off his imminent orgasm. He couldn't disappoint his lover now, not when they'd waited so long for this. He reached around with his right hand and took hold of D'min's cock, eliciting a deep groan and a push forward, then back.

"Sshh," countered B'lee. "You're supposed to stay relaxed. I'm supposed to be doing all the work, remember?"

"So work it, then, and ... ah, yes," he exhaled, as B'lee started to thrust steadily. "That's good."

It was better than good, thought B'lee, as he tried to maintain a steady rhythm, even if D'min couldn't keep still. He was definitely going to have to do something about that - teach him to keep time or something, or maybe tie him up. K'lon had mentioned that D'min liked to be restrained sometimes, and though B'lee had run away from the thought at the time, he could see its advantages now. He liked being able to elicit those delicious noises, to know that he could bring D'min to screaming incoherence with his touch.

"Oh, B'lee," groaned D'min. "So close."

B'lee speeded up both his thrusts and his strokes, and heard D'min's cries getting higher and higher as he approached his climax. B'lee was so close himself that he wondered which one of them would reach it first. Then he both heard D'min's sustained cry and felt the muscles around him clench and re-clench, and then he was shooting into his lover's body, and D'min was crying out again, and everything seemed to go grey for a moment, and all his strength disappeared. He let himself ease down onto the sheets, still holding onto D'min, still buried deep within him.

"Are you all right?" he asked, after a few moments' silence.

D'min made a vague sound in his throat that B'lee took to be agreement. It changed to one of protest as B'lee started to ease himself out.

"I'm not going far, love," he reassured D'min. "I'm just pulling out so you're not too sore tomorrow."

D'min chuckled. "I don't think I'd mind, actually."

"I would. I said I wouldn't hurt you."

"That is entirely a different kind of hurt." D'min twisted around slightly until he was on his back, looking up at B'lee. "Sometimes it's rather nice to have a few aches the next day. It reminds you how good it was."

"Is that so?"

"Mmm. So I'm not going to complain if I occasionally have difficulty sitting down."

"I'll have to remember that. But I'll try not to do it so hard on nights before Threadfall."

"Now that's what I call considerate," smiled D'min. "I remember once with D'von -"

"No," B'lee interrupted. "I don't want to hear about the times you had with past lovers. That's over and done with. Though," he added, conscientiously, "you can tell me if there was anything that you particularly liked, of course. I don't want you to think that you can't make suggestions."

D'min laughed outright at that. "I'm the one with all the experience, remember? I think I can safely promise that I'll be making _suggestions_."

B'lee giggled. "They'd better be good ones, then."

"They will be," D'min smiled, pulling B'lee down for a kiss.

* * *

They'd swapped places at some stage during the night, and now B'lee lay on his left side in front of D'min, wrapped in his lover's strong arms. It was warm and comforting, and B'lee didn't want to move. He could feel D'min's fingers interlaced with his own, and found that he was rubbing his thumb slowly up and down D'min's hand.

"Mmm," D'min rumbled in his throat. "You do much more of that and I won't be sleeping for a while."

"Maybe I don’t want you to sleep." He brought D'min's hand up to his mouth and kissed the fingers.

"Is that so?"

B'lee felt D'min lift his head. He looked up and was just able to meet his lover's gaze.

"So," murmured D'min, "what did you have in mind if you don't want me to sleep?"

B'lee started to shift around a little so that he was more on his back, with D'min above him. "Well, I thought that you might try kissing me again."

"You like the kissing."

"I love the kissing."

D'min bent his head and touched B'lee's lips. It was a gentle touch, but full of promise, and B'lee opened his mouth slightly, hoping that D'min would take the hint. He did, and they kissed for several minutes, until B'lee felt himself stirring with desire.

"I want you again," he whispered.

"Haven't you had enough tonight?"

"I don't think I'll ever have enough of you," murmured B'lee. "I've wanted you for so long."

"You could have had me two Turns ago," D'min pointed out.

B'lee shook his head. "No, I wasn't ready for you, then."

D'min thought about that, then nuzzled into B'lee's shoulder. "I don't think I was ready for you either."

"So it's probably just as well that we waited, then."

"Mmm. But we don't have to wait any more." He reached above them for the salve, and B'lee heard his breath catch as the wound twinged. "I'll definitely have to get a larger pot of this stuff."

"I'm sure Berchar will be happy to give it to you, as long as you can prove you're not over-exerting yourself."

"On second thoughts, you can get more salve. I'm not going near Berchar any more than I can possibly help it."

"Me? Why me?"

"Because you're the one who's getting the benefit from it. I'm perfectly capable of wanking now."

"You wouldn't," B'lee said, quite confidently. "You'd never prefer a wank to a ... well, to me. I remember you complaining bitterly the first month I knew you - about how you were stuck in Boll with no one but your right hand."

"Mmm. I remember that, too. I was hoping you'd volunteer to make up for the terrible deprivation, but you didn't."

"Sorry."

"It's all right. I didn't really expect you to. I'd figured out by then that you were het. Still, you didn't run away, either. That was good, too."

"And here we are, two and a half Turns later."

"Here we are, indeed. Lovers, no less."

"Mmm. Lovers." B'lee liked the sound of that.

"Now get busy with that salve."

"Yes, love."

* * *

There was a sudden and unexpected cold snap towards the end of the tenth month, and for the first time B'lee regretted that their weyrs were so far up in the rim, since they weren't as well-heated as the lower caverns. Even though D'min's wound had almost closed over, and he was able to wear a light shirt, he had found that the neckline ran across the wound and chafed the new and tender skin, so he preferred to stay shirtless. If the shirt was loose enough, he wore the neckline under the right shoulder, which gave him an odd raffish look. To keep himself warm, he took to wrapping a blanket around himself (it was the blanket that B'lee had knitted for S'gan a Turn ago, and B'lee blessed the forethought that had led him to ask if he could take it back) and huddled in the deepest part of his weyr, out of the draughts.

"Do you want to move back to the guest weyr for a little while, until you can wear wherhide again?" asked B'lee. "It'll be a lot warmer than up here."

D'min shook his head. "I'm not an invalid. I don't need to be down there with the sick and injured."

"Would you like me to bring up some hot klah, then?"

D'min nodded, so B'lee kissed him on the forehead and asked Margroth if he'd mind dropping him down into the bowl. Luckily it wasn't too late in the evening, and the klah cauldron still had plenty of the hot steaming drink, so he filled and stoppered the flask and turned to go.

"How's D'min doing today?" asked S'peren behind him.

"Not so bad, Wingleader. It's a little chilly up there, though, so I'm just getting him a hot drink."

"There are a couple of guest rooms free near the infirmary, I understand ..."

B'lee shook his head, smiling. "No, thank you. I just suggested that and nearly got flamed. He's a bit stubborn."

"He is. But I'm concerned that he may catch a cold if he can't wear adequate clothing. And I can't allow him to do anything that might delay his recovery, even if that means he has to sacrifice a little of his pride."

B'lee shook his head, wondering how he could defend his lover without insulting his wingleader - and without actually revealing that D'min was his lover, if possible. "I don't think it's that bad. His weyr has a nice little alcove at the back that doesn't get much of a draught, and he's got my blanket around him. Once I can get him into bed he'll be warm enough."

S'peren raised an eyebrow, and B'lee hurriedly added, "With the sleeping furs over him, I mean."

"But of course," replied S'peren, the crinkle of his eyes betraying his amusement. "Though I wouldn't discount the benefit of a warm body next to his. Speaking from experience, there's nothing quite like it for encouraging well-being." He smiled and moved on, and B'lee groaned to himself, wondering just how many people knew - or suspected - that he and D'min were now more than just friends.

 _And I asked K'lon and Berchar not to talk_ , he grumbled to himself. _I should have known better._

Still, by the time Margroth had deposited him on the ledge of Aurieth's weyr, he could see the funny side of the situation, and as he poured out a cup of klah for D'min he announced, "The wingleader's given me orders to keep you warm in bed."

D'min looked astounded, then laughed delightedly. "You're having me on! He doesn't even know, does he?"

"I think he suspects." B'lee sighed. "I think a lot of people suspect."

"Does that worry you?"

"A bit. More because of the ribbing I'm going to get from M'ken than anything else." He shrugged. "They'll have to know sometime, I guess, I'd just prefer it's later on, when you're back in the wing and can defend me from the onslaught of randy green riders wanting to grab my arse."

D'min sat up straight and glared at him. "Anyone puts a hand on your arse and I'll cut it off!"

B'lee blinked. He hadn't quite expected such a strong response from his lover.

D'min seemed to realise what he'd said. "Sorry. I just meant that you're mine now, and just because I've finally converted you to the homo side of life, that doesn't mean that they're going to get the opportunity to find out for themselves."

B'lee smiled fondly. "I'm not sure that they would anyway. I'm still not sure that I like men in general. Just you."

"Good. Let's keep it that way, shall we?"

"As long as you do the same," said B'lee, rather more pointedly that he would have liked. "You're the one that usually has them queuing up for you."

D'min hugged him. "Not any more. I've got the one I want. I don't need anyone else."

"Good. Now drink your klah before it gets cold." He sat down beside D'min and sipped at his drink - it was hot and spicy and he could feel the warmth spreading through him. It was going to be another cold night, and he was glad that he would be snuggled up next to D'min. He remembered a few of the winter nights from the year before, when he'd been shivering alone in his bed, wishing that he could have a fire up there. Although he couldn't say that the Weyr was colder than his old High Reaches home, it was certainly draughtier, and icy tendrils of wind kept sneaking through the sleeping furs. More than once he'd actually put on his wherhide jacket and trousers just to foil the wind.

Now, however, he looked forward to going to bed, no matter what the weather did. D'min was warm next to him, and somehow the draughts weren't as bad this Turn, or maybe he just slept so soundly that he didn't notice them. Either way, he was thankful that he had a bedmate, and he was going to make very sure that D'min didn't slip away from him in the way he had from so many of his previous lovers. He and D'min were more than just bedmates, after all; they were weyrmates, and that thought was as good as a blanket itself for keeping him warm.

* * *

Naturally, D'min hadn't been left entirely to his own devices when he'd moved back to the rim. Berchar saw him every second or third day, and the wingleader and wingsecond called on him at least once a sevenday. His mother overcame her dislike of riding a-dragonback enough to visit him twice, and young Dokkerin scampered up the stairs at least two or three times a sevenday. D'min dreaded the healer's visits, painful as they often were, tolerated his mother's fussing, and put up with his younger half-brother's awe and curiosity as he gazed at the wound.

"Does it still hurt?" asked the youngster one afternoon, gazing at the bright pink scar with the central scab that was visible above the neck of D'min's loose shirt.

"Not so much now."

"Salby says you're never going to be able to ride again."

"Salby's wrong. I'll be back in the wing by Turn's End."

B'lee privately thought that was being overly optimistic, but he didn't want to contradict his lover openly and risk another argument, so he kept his mouth shut and continued knitting.

Dokkerin nodded. "That's good. _Dragonmen must fly ..."_

 _"...when Thread is in the sky_. Yes, I know. And I will. So no more listening to Salby, understand?"

"Yes, D'min."

"How are your lessons going?"

Dokkerin shrugged. "All right. Curmir's more fun than Willan was. But I like B'lee best of all. When are you going to teach us again, B'lee?" he asked, turning around.

"When Thread stops falling. I don't have the time to teach and fight, you know."

Dokkerin scuffed the ground with his feet. "I know. But your teaching's better. More fun. And you sing better songs, not just the boring old Duty Ballads."

"Those 'boring old Duty Ballads' are very important. They tell you what you need to know about living on Pern."

"I know. But I like the story songs better. And the dancing songs."

D'min laughed. "I'll tell you a secret," he whispered, beckoning his brother closer, "so do I. Much more fun."

Dokkerin giggled. He left soon afterwards, with the promise of another visit in a couple of days, and B'lee sighed. At least all he had to worry about with Dokkerin's visits were that they made D'min tired and sometimes irritable when he passed on adverse comments like Salby's.

The riders, now, they were another matter. Several of them had made a habit of calling in every few days, and more than once there was an impromptu rest-day gathering of the more gregarious green and blue riders in D'min's weyr.

B'lee bore these invasions with patience, since he knew they were good for D'min, but he chafed at the way that many of the green and blue riders flirted with his lover. He knew it was partly his own fault that they didn't know the situation - he still hadn't told anyone besides K'lon and Berchar, and really wasn't looking forward to the teasing that would follow any announcement that he'd switched sides - but that didn't make it any easier to deal with. They all assumed that D'min was available and that B'lee was still the caring but steadfastly het rider they'd known for years.

The day following Dokkerin's visit was, as it happened, another rest-day. After taking the dragons down to the lake for scrubbing and oiling (assisted by Dokkerin and some of his friends), B'lee and D'min had returned to the rim and were just settling down to some serious nuzzling and fondling when the sound of boisterous steps coming up the stairs had alerted them to visitors. B'lee scrambled up off the bed and was busy tidying away some of D'min's clothing by the time the riders drew back the curtain.

B'lee almost groaned out loud when he saw who they were - M'ken, G'lin and T'sil, three of the most flirtatious riders in the Weyr. Both M'ken and G'lin, he knew, had been D'min's lovers in the past turn or so. He wasn't sure about T'sil, but the blue rider was certainly not averse to giving D'min a hug and a kiss, and D'min, curse him, wasn't exactly pushing him away.

He tried to stop the feelings of jealousy. He didn't have to worry, he told himself. D'min was still spending every night with him, and the only times they were apart were when everyone was fighting Thread, so he had no reason to think that D'min was playing him false. And, to give them their due, he had no doubt that all three of them would cease their flirting if they knew that B'lee and D'min were weyrmates. All he had to do was tell them.

Telling them, however, was the problem. Now that he'd got used to the idea of loving a man - now that he was used to spending all of his nights and most of his days with D'min - the prospect of being known as his weyrmate didn't really trouble him. What did alarm him was the prospect of the announcement itself, and how much teasing and taunting he'd have to bear at the news that he, like so many before him, had been converted to the homo side of life. If he could only get through that, the rest of it was nothing.

T'sil and G'lin had thrown themselves on the bed, one on each side of D'min, and were busy telling him the latest gossip. Ch'may, a green rider in 8 Wing, had been flirting heavily with a couple of visiting riders from Ista, when his weyrmate, V'don, had objected. Ch'may had protested and continued to flirt, whereupon V'don had simply picked him up and carried him off, over his shoulder. Those who lived in the same corridor bore witness to the fact that they had heard what sounded like V'don administering chastisement with the assistance of a riding strap.

"Why on earth does he stay with him if V'don treats him like that?" asked B'lee, astonished. He had thought that such brutality was frowned upon in the Weyr. "And how did his dragon permit it?"

To his surprise, however, the three green riders merely fell about in giggles, and it was left to T'sil to explain to B'lee that Ch'may had thoroughly enjoyed it and was known to provoke the reaction deliberately from time to time. "He loves being spanked. It's just a game they play.

G'lin added, "He's a terrible flirt, but he loves V'don."

B'lee shook his head in bewilderment. Every time he thought he come to grips with Weyr life, there was something new to catch him out. And what on earth would he do if D'min started playing games like that? He really didn't think he could hit D'min, even in play. He looked anxiously at his lover, seeking reassurance that he'd never be asked put in such a horrible position.

"It's all right, B'lee," said D'min, reading his mind. "I'll never do that to you."

B'lee nodded and smiled, relieved that D'min had known exactly what was worrying him. Then he tensed as he realised what D'min had said - and what it implied.

M'ken was the first to pick it up - it would be him, thought B'lee, morosely - and gave a guffaw. "Hah! I knew it!"

G'lin laughed as well. "You two? Finally!"

"I thought there was more to it than just 'helping a friend'," added M'ken, with a leer at B'lee.

"Really?" asked T'sil, turning to D'min. "You and B'lee?"

D'min nodded and smiled, glancing up at B'lee as if to seek forgiveness - or reassurance of his own. B'lee shrugged and smiled back. The damage was done, and there was no point in trying to deny it.

"Since when?" asked G'lin.

"Since I was injured."

"Oh, no, not the usual 'I thought he was going to die, and then I knew I loved him' routine?" teased G'lin.

B'lee felt himself going red. "It wasn't like that," he muttered.

D'min snorted. "Actually, it was, but I didn't mind. And just for that, you can go and sit with M'ken and B'lee can sit here with me." So saying, he gave G'lin a push, and the green rider grudgingly moved off the bed. D'min held his hand out to B'lee, who took it and sat down next to his lover, rather embarrassed but relieved that he didn't have to hide his feelings anymore.

M'ken gave an exaggerated sigh and a sniff.

"What's wrong with you?" asked T'sil.

"All these months I've been waiting for B'lee to embrace his inner homo so that I can get my hands on his delectable arse, and now I find out that he's taken! It's just not fair." M'ken adopted an injured and pathetic air. "Nobody loves me. I'm going to spend another winter shivering on my own."

"Only if you keep on ignoring that blue rider from Tillek who keeps on sending you notes," T'sil pointed out. "He's been after you for months."

"Oh, him. Well, I suppose he'll have to do, now that B'lee's unavailable. Better than crying on my own." He sniffed again, winked at them to show he wasn't really upset, and then headed for the doorway.

"Where are you going?" asked B'lee.

"My dears, I've got gossip. You don't expect me to stay here all day when I could be spreading it?"

B'lee groaned. It was going to be all over the Weyr by dinner-time.


	18. Return

_Winter, 36th-37th Turn of the Present Pass_

As the winter solstice approached, the weather grew colder, and although D'min's wound continued to heal, his emotional state worsened. In spite of his efforts to remain cheerful, B'lee knew that D'min was getting very touchy about his continued disability. He was still forbidden to go _between_ or to fly outside the immediate environs of the Weyr, and he chafed at the restrictions.

He was also getting increasingly despondent about his looks, B'lee realised. He was reluctant to leave his weyr, especially during the busiest parts of the day. He even went to the effort of bathing at odd times when he thought that no one else would be in the cavern that held the hot springs. Though they had no mirror in the weyr, D'min had caught sight of himself in the reflections from the bathing pool, and was distressed to see that he was so disfigured. It wasn't just the scar - bad though that was - but also the muscle wastage in his right arm and shoulder from the months of disuse.

B'lee had told him repeatedly that it made no difference to him, but D'min didn't believe him, and became more and more depressed as the healing dragged on and the wound remained so tender and problematic. He complained incessantly, to the point where B'lee was ready to tear his hair out in frustration.

"I'm only 18," he said, morosely, one evening, his fingertips running over the raised edge of the scar. "And look at me - I look horrible. No one's going to want me now."

"Good!" B'lee exclaimed, exasperation making him sound angry.

"What?!" D'min spun around to confront B'lee. "You think it's good that I'm hideously scarred for life?"

"No. I think it's good that I won't have to fight off every blue and green rider in the Six Weyrs. And don't be so fardling ridiculous. If every rider with scars shut themselves away in self-pity there'd be no one out there fighting Thread at all."

D'min continued to look at him, open mouthed. B'lee rarely lost his temper, but he'd had enough of D'min's self-piteous whinging and decided to put a stop to it, once and for all.

"Yes, D'min, you have a large scar on your neck. It will always be there. Some people might consider it disfiguring. I don't. You're still the most attractive man I know, and if I don't care about it, I don't see why you should. I'm the one that has to see it every day, after all."

"Oh."

"And, what's more, if it makes you a bit more careful about exposing yourself and Aurieth to Thread, then I'll be downright grateful for it."

D'min bit his lip and looked down. The petulant expression was gone, leaving him looking young and worried and vulnerable.

B'lee's anger faded, and he went over and put his arms around his lover. "Never, ever, think that this scar affects how I feel about you. I love you, D'min. I love the person you are, the person inside. A few inches of skin more or less don't mean anything at all."

D'min dropped his head onto B'lee shoulder. "Sorry," he whispered. "I guess I was being a bit of a prat."

"You were being a lot of a prat, but I forgive you." B'lee kissed him. "And I know that your looks mean a lot to you. I know you loved being the centre of attention with the blues and greens. But, you know, I don't think that was ever because of your looks. It was because you smile and laugh and make people feel loved. That's why you're popular - not because of your looks, but because of your personality, and that hasn't changed."

D'min looked at him. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. And I think that you need to start going down to the dining hall again instead of hiding away up here."

"I hate the way people stare."

"So wear that scarf I made you last winter. That will hide it."

"I guess I could. It looks good on me."

"Of course, it does - I chose the colour especially for you. And it's soft enough not to chafe."

D'min smiled, and went to fetch it from the chest. B'lee wrapped it around his neck so that it hid most of the scar, and gave D'min a kiss for good measure.

"You look great," he said, hoping that D'min would be reassured.

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Good enough to flirt with?"

"No one is allowed to flirt with you ever again. You know that." B'lee softened the chastisement by kissing him again.

"Hah. I bet M'ken will flirt with me."

"M'ken would flirt with anything in wherhide. He's a tart."

"You don't like him just because he tried to seduce you."

"It's not that he tried - it's that he never stops trying. He had his hand on my arse only yesterday, and he knows I'm with you." B'lee looked piteously at D'min. "I hoped you'd be protecting me from him."

D'min bristled at the thought that the randy green rider - his former lover, too! - was after his weyrmate. "I'll make sure he doesn't touch you again," he growled. "Not if I have to go to every meal with you."

"My hero," B'lee looked at him fondly. "Come on, then, let's go down and fight off the hordes." He kissed D'min warmly, and then led him to the stairs.

* * *

Solstice was bitterly cold, with snow along the mountains and a vicious north wind that whistled through the caves and passages of Fort Weyr. No one ventured outside unless they had to. All the riders hurried from weyr to lower caverns, and took care not to stand within splashing distance when their dragons bathed in the lake. The Weyr bowl was relatively sheltered, but even there the gusts and eddies of wind made people shiver, and Hold-bred folk thought wistfully of the strong metal doors and shutters that had protected them from the elements as much as from Thread. The Hatching Ground became a temporary refuge for the thin-blooded, including the injured and a couple of weyrlings from Southern Boll who had difficulty in adjusting to the cooler mountain climate.

Luckily for B'lee's peace of mind, D'min was now able to wear proper clothing. Over the last couple of months B'lee had made him a thick knitted jersey with a high neck that not only kept him warm, but hid most of the scar. It was a warm russet brown colour, and D'min loved it. With that, and a screen that they had managed to erect to keep out most of the wind from his weyr, they were relatively comfortable. B'lee had never actually returned the flask he'd borrowed a few months ago, and now made sure that it was filled up after every meal so that D'min would have something warm to drink in the weyr.

The only good aspect of the frightful weather was that Thread froze in the sky and fell as a black dust, requiring no flame to kill it. L'mal sent up two Wings each time to make sure that it was safe, and insisted that the remaining Wings be ready to fly, just in case some got through, but no one minded that - it made good sense after all, and the remaining riders were happy to sit in their weyrs for a few hours, if it meant that they only had to fly one fall in six.

D'min was improving steadily, both in strength and mood. He wasn't as reluctant to be seen in and around the Weyr (as long as he was wearing the russet jersey or the green scarf to hide his scar), and made regular appearances at meals.

B'lee was both relieved and a little sad - relieved because D'min was getting better, but sad (and ashamed of it) because he had enjoyed doing everything for his lover. He'd enjoyed having D'min dependent on him for almost everything and, in particular, he'd been happy that D'min hadn't been spending much time with his green and blue rider friends, flirting and laughing as he had done in the past. He knew that D'min would be his normal cheeky and vivacious self once he rejoined the wing, and he was worried that D'min might come to see B'lee as boring and unimaginative. He hadn't stayed with any lover for more than a few months since coming back to Fort Weyr, and B'lee already knew that most of the green riders liked their freedom to move from lover to lover at whim. How long was D'min going to stay with him?

What would B'lee do if D'min moved on? He'd faced that thought back in the summer, and it had hurt then. How much worse would it be now, after he'd come to appreciate D'min as a lover, not just as a friend? The pain would be indescribable ... but he had to be prepared for it. D'min was so young - even if he thought that he loved B'lee for life now, he might well change his mind in a Turn or two.

He had to be prepared.

* * *

A week after Solstice, D'min was given clearance to begin training again.

"You can fly and go _between_ , as long as you keep warm," cautioned Berchar. "You must continue to exercise that arm and shoulder, and try to build up your strength again. Looking after Aurieth yourself will help you to do that."

D'min nodded. He'd already helped to oil her a couple of times, taking care not to overstretch himself, but he couldn't deny that it had been tiring, and B'lee had insisted on him resting afterwards.

"The scar is still a bit tender," the Healer continued, "so you will have to be careful with your jacket - if you find that the collar is rubbing on the scar, then you must stop flying for a few days to let it settle down. The last thing I want is for you to be damaging that delicate tissue. I know you don't need numbweed anymore, but I want you to apply this salve to the scar. It will be two Turns before it fades completely, and during that time you must make an effort to keep the skin stretched and pliable. If you allow the scar to contract, you may well end up with restrictions in the movement of the neck and shoulder, and that will have a serious effect on your ability to spot thread."

D'min was alarmed at Berchar's warning, and promised to allow B'lee to apply the salve every night and morning, no matter how much it hurt.

B'lee accepted his new task with alacrity. It was no hardship for him to be touching his lover's skin, and the thought that the scar might contract filled him with dread. They'd all seen the results of poorly-healed burns at one time or another, and B'lee had no intention of letting D'min's injury cripple him for life.

D'min felt guilty at the demands on B'lee's time. "You don't have to do this," he said on the third day, shifting uncomfortably under his lover's hands.

"Well, who else is going to traipse up all those steps to do it? I'm here, at least." He dabbed a little more salve on the scar and kept on rubbing, trying to stretch out the tissue. "I know it's not exactly pleasant, but it has to be done."

There were parts of the scar - near the jaw - that remained a bit tender, and B'lee tried to do those first, getting them out of the way. Then he moved down further, towards the shoulder. Finally, when he'd worked on that as much as D'min could stand, he would start to knead the knotted muscles around the other shoulder.

"That feels good," purred D'min, and B'lee smiled. He knew what that tone of voice meant, and he looked forward to it. Now that D'min was feeling better, they were making love most evenings, and sometimes in the mornings, too, if there was no Threadfall. B'lee found that he liked learning all the things that two men could do with each other, and it gave him a fierce joy to learn what he could do to please D'min, to bring him to the point of incoherence. But most of all, he loved hearing D'min's voice becoming deep and rough with passion, gaining some tone that went straight through B'lee's body and into his groin.

* * *

The next morning, D'min reported to the wingleader for duty. B'lee went with him, at S'peren's request, which made B'lee rather apprehensive - he had the feeling that S'peren anticipated some reluctance to follow orders. He was right.

"What do you mean, I can't rejoin the wing yet?" asked D'min, incredulous and angry. "I'm better! I can fly! I can use my arm! Tell him, B'lee."

"He's a lot better than he was," began B'lee, little hesitantly. He had to support his weyrmate, of course, but his innate honesty and concern for D'min made it impossible to say that D'min was ready to fight Thread again.

"I know he is," said S'peren, understanding B'lee's dilemma. "We've been watching you, D'min, over the last few sevendays, and I can see that you've been doing the exercises that Berchar recommended, and your strength is improving. Aurieth is doing very well, of course - she's completely well and flying normally. But you had so much time off, so soon after joining the Wing, that I can't let you back immediately. It wouldn't be safe."

"I'll be safe, I promise," pleaded D'min. "Just let me fly Thread again."

"You've been out of the Wing for more than four months," said S'peren, shaking his head. "I know you've made very effort to get better quickly - and I know it's been difficult for you at times - but you need time to build up your strength a little more and practise the drills again. I want you to rejoin the weyrling classes for a few sevendays, to work on flying drills and firesacks. You can fly with the Wing when we're doing drills, but not Falls."

D'min looked rebellious, but S'peren was quietly insistent. "This is not a punishment, D'min, believe me. It's merely the final stage of your recovery. I have a responsibility to the Weyrleader to make sure that my Wing is prepared, and that every dragon and rider in it is capable of fighting Thread to their full capacity. I can't give him that assurance if I allow the injured back too soon. Do you understand me?"

Reluctantly, D'min nodded.

"Do I have your word that you will attend the weyrling classes until I say otherwise?"

D'min hesitated, but finally said, in a low voice, "Yes, you have my word."

S'peren smiled. "Thank you. And B'lee?"

"Yes, Wingleader?"

"I expect you to do everything you can to help D'min in the next few sevendays. Tired and sore muscles are going to need a lot of attention."

D'min grinned, and B'lee went red. "I'll do the best I can," he muttered.

* * *

That afternoon, D'min joined the junior weyrling class in preparing firesacks for the next Fall. Although he started out well, after a couple of hours hauling firestone around he was exhausted. He refused to stop, though, and returned to his weyr pale and trembling, and supporting his right arm with his left.

B'lee was furious when he saw how bad D'min was and hauled him off to the bathing pool, where he insisted that D'min lie in the warm water while he got him hot klah and some food to eat.

"This is _exactly_ why S'peren wouldn't let you fly Thread straight away," he fumed. "You haven't got the sense of a week-old watch-wher!"

"I wasn't going to stop when I had a bunch of weyrlings looking at me!"

"They know you were injured. It's not as if they expected you to be strong."

"I'm a rider. I can't let the weyrlings think they're better than me."

"They're not better, they're just not recovering from injury."

Once fed, and with muscle aches eased by the hot water, D'min hauled himself out of the pool (with B'lee's help) and got dressed again. "Mmm," he murmured lazily, leaning heavily on B'lee's shoulder. "Take me to bed and shag me to sleep."

"No."

"What?" D'min straightened up and looked at B'lee, puzzled by his answer.

"No. No sex tonight. I'll put ointment on the scar, and I'll massage any sore muscles you have, but you're not getting anything else. You're too exhausted."

"B'lee! You wouldn't!"

"I would."

"Please, B'lee."

B'lee looked daggers at him. "No. I'm not shagging you, D'min. In fact, I'm not sure I'll ever shag you again. If you can't work out when you need to stop, then you're going to get yourself killed, and I can't cope with that."

D'min went white. "No, B'lee. I'm sorry!"

Months of anxiety and worry broke free of B'lee's self-control, and he almost shouted at D'min. "It's not just you any more, don't you understand? If anything happens to you, then I lose a mate, and Margroth loses a mate, and the Weyr loses a dragon and we can't afford that!"

D'min looked horrified, as if he had never thought about it in those terms before - which, knowing D'min, he probably hadn't. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "I didn't think ..."

"You have to _learn_ to think. You're a dragonrider now, not a weyrling. You have to think of consequences now. Every time you take a risk, there are consequences, and _we're_ going to be the ones who suffer."

D'min bit his lip, and B'lee tried hard not to notice the glitter of tears in his lover's eyes. He felt angry, and exhausted, and so very, very scared, and it was easier to stay angry with D'min than to tell him just how much he feared another accident.

D'min stepped closer. "I'm really sorry. I didn't realise I was scaring you so much."

B'lee fought the urge to hold him, but said, softly, "How am I supposed to live if you die?"

D'min's tears spilled over, and this time B'lee gave in and took him in his arms.

"I'm sorry," D'min repeated. "I won't die, I promise. I'll be more careful."

"Please, D'min. I love you so much. I thought I'd lost you once ... I couldn't bear it again."

"I'm sorry," whispered D'min, again and again.

They stood, wrapped in each other's arms, for a couple of minutes, until they felt a bit calmer.

D'min gave a loud sniff, and straightened up, giving B'lee a watery smile. "Do you think Margroth might give me a lift back up to the weyr? I don't think I can manage the steps and Aurieth's asleep.

"Of course," B'lee said, calling Margroth down and kissing D'min's cheek as a reward for having admitted a small weakness.

They turned towards the passageway, and B'lee caught sight of K'lon, standing off to one side but watching them closely.

"Are you two all right?" asked K'lon as they passed him.

B'lee nodded. "Yes. Yes, we are, now."

* * *

D'min was a lot more conscious of his limits after that, and took small rest-breaks whenever he started to tire. As F'neldril looked on with approval, and none of the weyrlings teased him, it was less embarrassing than he had anticipated, and he was able to pace himself without becoming too self-conscious. Within a few sevendays he had regained much of his strength and stamina, and was even enjoying the classes. His experience and knowledge was appreciated by the weyrlings he worked with - particularly the insights he was able to give them on the difference between flying drills and flying Thread - and he found that he hadn't forgotten too much of the drills. His confidence increased, and he became less preoccupied with his appearance, even to the extent of forgetting to wear the concealing scarf around the Weyr.

B'lee noted the difference in him, and responded with ardour. Their love-making had changed subtly since the confrontation by the bathing pool, becoming deeper and tinged with more emotion. B'lee found it more satisfying, especially afterwards, when he held D'min in his arms and watched him sleep. He felt that they were truly weyrmates now, not just lovers: weyrmates who cared for each other's future as well as present.

It was a pity, he thought, that hand-fasting wasn't a Weyr custom. Only a minority of people formed a lasting union here - most of them came together for a few months or a couple of Turns, and then went their separate ways without rancour or bitterness. Children were loved and cared for, by either birth or foster parents, but since there were no lands or positions to inherit in a Weyr, it followed that legitimacy was a non-issue, and life was so uncertain in these times that few were prepared to take on a long commitment.

B'lee wanted that commitment. His parents had been hand-fasted for nearly forty years, and though he knew that they'd had the odd disagreement, by and large they'd been in love and happy for all that time. It was something that he had hoped for in his own life, and he'd been looking forward to finding a wife as soon as possible after being released from the Harperhall.

D'min could never be a wife, of course, but deep down, B'lee hoped for a similar commitment. But there were no ceremonies for riders here, no witnesses, no contracts. If D'min fell in love with someone else, he could leave B'lee without so much as a backward glance, and there was nothing that B'lee could do about it ... except, perhaps, to request a transfer to another Wing, or even another Weyr. All he could do was hope.

He shivered, and kissed D'min's shoulder, hoping to ward off any possible disaster.

* * *

D'min's first Fall back with the wing was in the second month of the Turn - a dawn Fall, and bitterly cold. S'peren made them sit out the first half, but brought them in readily enough when the first shift of greens was starting to tire.

They managed well, twisting and turning in an elegant and deadly dance with the noxious Threads, making sure that any wayward strands were eliminated before they could hurt the larger dragons or fall to the ground beneath. B'lee tried hard to concentrate on his own tasks, but he couldn't help casting a glance in D'min's direction now and again, elated that his mate was doing so well, and anxious in case he was tiring. Aurieth was fine and showed no sign of excessive fatigue, and he told himself that she would make sure that D'min was safe.

In the bathing pool afterwards, he couldn't help noticing that D'min was fading a little, and insisted on Margroth carrying them both up to his weyr. He pushed D'min into bed and covered him with the sleeping furs, kissing his forehead. D'min was so exhausted that he didn't even argue, and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

B'lee put their wherhide clothes out to air on the ledge, and checked on Aurieth. She was a little pale, but otherwise all right. Margroth told B'lee that she was tired, too, and that he had promised to get her a wherry to eat later in the day.

 _That's good. I'm glad you're looking after her._

 _Always._

B'lee grabbed the stoppered flask that he'd come to rely on so much during D'min's convalescence and trudged down the stairs to the dining hall.

"How is he?" asked K'lon.

"Asleep. Just tired, I think. We had to get up so early, I don't think he slept well."

"Ah, you're probably right. I thought he might have over-exerted himself."

"I think he did, just a little, but there's no damage done. Nothing a few hours' sleep can't fix, anyway."

After lunch he filled the flask with hot klah and hurried back up to the weyr, where he sat by the bed knitting another jersey until D'min woke up.

"Hello there, love. Want a drink?"

D'min nodded, and B'lee poured him out a cup of klah - it had cooled a bit since he'd brought it up, but was still warm, if not hot. D'min drank it down eagerly.

"I'm starving," he complained.

"Well, you did miss lunch."

"Did you bring me anything to eat?"

"No. I thought you'd sleep till dinner time, and you did. I heard the weyrlings coming out about five minutes ago, so we should probably start moving."

"Huh." D'min tone showed exactly what he thought of that, but he got up nevertheless, and started to get dressed.

They made it to the dining hall in good time, and sat with their friends, joking and laughing through the meal. D'min was congratulated on having accomplished his first Fall after so long a convalescence, and enjoyed a mild - a very mild - flirtation with M'ken and S'been.

D'min started to tire before the meal was over, but B'lee could see that he was determined not to give in. Accepting the inevitable, B'lee slid closer and put an arm around his lover, coaxing him to lean back. D'min relaxed a little as B'lee took some of his weight, and the worry lines that had appeared on his brow faded.

B'lee felt the strain of supporting D'min's weight as well as his own, but the effort was worth it. He liked the feel of D'min against him, and liked the thought that he was not only supporting his weyrmate, but doing it in front of the entire Wing. There would be no one here tonight who could claim ignorance of their relationship, no one who could deny that they were a couple. And though such a thought would have horrified him two years ago - even a few months ago - it now felt as natural as breathing.

"I think you'd better get him back up to bed," said M'ken softly. "He's almost asleep now."

B'lee tilted his head around and saw that D'min's eyes were closed and his face was slack. "I think you're right," he murmured, and shook D'min gently to wake him up. "Come on, sleepyhead. Time to go to bed."

"Mmm, not asleep."

D'min's denial did nothing to convince B'lee, and he stood up, bringing D'min to his feet. "Bedtime, love."

D'min shook his head, but opened his eyes and managed to extricate himself from the benches without falling over. "Goodnight, all," he said to the table at large. "I think B'lee wants to take me to bed."

B'lee blushed, but refused to let D'min embarrass him without making some form of retaliation. "I do. But if you're too tired, I'm sure that M'ken here can console me." He winked at M'ken to make sure that the green rider understood it was a joke, and received a knowing smile in return.

D'min spun around so fast it was a wonder he was able to stop. "No one is consoling you, do you hear?" He gripped the front of B'lee's shirt and pulled him in close. "You're _my_ weyrmate and only mine. Understand?"

B'lee put his own hand over D'min's and looked into his eyes. "I'm yours, D'min. You know that."

D'min relaxed, and let go of the shirt, brushing his hands over the material as if he could erase the creases he'd just created. "Sorry."

M'ken - and several others - laughed out loud at the by-play. "Ooh, you'd better watch out, B'lee, the little dragon has claws!"

B'lee smiled at D'min, and was glad that he couldn't see his own face, because he was sure that he must have the silliest, goofiest smile ever seen on a rider. "But he's _my_ little dragon, so that's all right."

"Aww!" came the chorus from the table, and several of the more sentimental riders sniffed or reached for their own mates.

As they headed up the stairs, D'min turned to B'lee and said, "You know that's as close as we'll ever get to a hand-fasting?"

"I know. But it's all right, D'min. A formal hand-fasting wouldn't make me love you any more than I do now."

"Really?"

"Really."

"I think I'd better have tangible proof of that in the next few minutes," said D'min with a teasing smile.

"Oh, believe me, you will."

And he did.


	19. Epilogue

_Spring, 37th Turn of the Present Pass_

Winter was over at last and the air had a gentle freshness in it that hinted of the summer to come. B'lee woke long after sunrise, lazy and content in his lover's arms, and looking forward to a well-deserved rest day. No Threadfall, no practice flight, no firesacks, no weyrlings to supervise ... just D'min and whatever diversions they could think of. He smiled as he thought of several delightful ways of making love to his weyrmate, and blessed his foresight in bring up a small bag of nuts and dried fruit the day before - if they were lucky, they might not even make it down to the dining hall until well after lunch.

Unfortunately for his plans, D'min woke grumpy and petulant. B'lee assumed that his wound was paining him - he'd strained his shoulder catching a firesack during the last Fall and had been grounded for a week - and offered to massage his shoulders. D'min refused with a snarl and strode off to the bathing pool alone. B'lee's visions of prolonged debauchery were fading fast, but he reasoned that no one could be in a good temper every day, and tried to hide his disappointment as best he could. He followed D'min more slowly, and made his way to the dining hall in time to catch a fruit bun from the breakfast platters being cleared away. He wandered out into the bowl, wondering if a bath would improve D'min's mood sufficiently to make debauchery a possibility later in the day.

He caught sight of Aurieth as she jumped off her ledge and made her way down to the feeding grounds, followed closely by Margroth. Her green hide looked dazzlingly bright in the spring sunshine, and he felt a momentary regret that she could never lay eggs, to pass on her elegance and beauty.

It wasn't until Margroth told him that Aurieth had blooded her kill that he realised what was happening. She was rising again! No wonder her hide had been bright; no wonder D'min had been touchy. Hope surged in his chest. Not just debauchery, he thought, with a gleam in his eye, but dragon-fuelled debauchery at that! He hurried through his breakfast and went to find D'min, who was just exiting the bathing rooms.

"Aurieth's about to rise again," D'min told him as soon as he appeared, his face anxious.

"I know. Margroth told me."

"But I'm grounded! I can't take her away from here."

"You don't have to," B'lee reassured him. "Just send her somewhere that Margroth knows. He'll find her. That is," he paused, suddenly unsure, "if you want him to find her."

D'min pushed him up against the rock wall. "If you think I'm having anyone else but you in my bed, you're mistaken. I spent two and a half years waiting for you and I'm not going to waste any more opportunities."

"Then pick a place and we'll send them there, out of the way."

"Boll, then. They like it down there."

"Boll it is."

He told Margroth to link with Aurieth and fly to Boll where, with any luck, there would be no other dragons to disturb them. Then he followed D'min up the interminable stairs to their weyrs. Once they'd got their breath back, he dragged D'min back into his bedchamber and kissed him - gently at first, then more deeply - letting his hands rove over the contours of D'min's body. He rejoiced as D'min responded, and they spent several minutes kissing each other before B'lee finally reached for the hem of D'min's shirt.

"Why the hurry? They haven't even started the mating flight yet."

"I want to be ready when they do. I don't want to waste a single second when I'm with you," said B'lee, desire already rising in him and making his voice deep and husky.

D'min gasped and his eyes widened, his body arching, almost unconsciously, towards B'lee's. A deep, probing kiss left him breathless and panting, and he pressed in close to B'lee's body.

B'lee loved seeing him like this. He loved D'min in all his moods, of course, but there was something particularly heady in seeing him wanton with lust - lust for B'lee.

He'd been waiting for this day for months. When Aurieth had last risen he hadn't had a clue what to do with D'min, and they'd been clumsy and unpractised. He hadn't even known how to prepare D'min so that he didn't hurt him. Now, with two seasons of experience behind him, B'lee wanted to use everything he'd learned to make this the best dragonflight that D'min had ever had.

He put his hands under D'min's shirt and pulled it up over his head, letting his hands sweep over soft skin as they rose, making sure that he didn't touch any of the still-sensitive areas around the wound. The shirt was thrown to the side of the cavern without a thought, except to hope that they could find it later on. Then he gently unlaced D'min's trousers, slipping his hand inside the waistband to feel his lover's growing cock, stirring and lengthening at his touch. After only a couple of strokes he withdrew, ignoring D'min's protest - he knew that they had a long way to go yet, and it wouldn't do to bring D'min off too soon.

D'min kicked his shoes off, his eyes never leaving B'lee's face, and pushed his trousers down. He leaned on B'lee for balance as he stepped out of them, and then kicked them off to one side, where they would no doubt join his shirt.

B'lee looked at his lover, and dropped slowly to his knees. He could see D'min's cock jutting out proudly, and he took hold of it and gave it a gentle caress with his hand before bringing it to his mouth.

"Oh," breathed D'min, as he realised what B'lee was doing. "Please."

B'lee didn't reply, but pressed a kiss to the head before opening his mouth. He'd spent many an hour learning how to do this, and he'd come to like it for its own sake, and not just because it gave pleasure to his lover. He enjoyed the sense of power it gave him, the knowledge that his actions could bring D'min metaphorically to his knees with just a few tonguestrokes.

D'min shuddered and his hands clutched at B'lee's hair. "Oh," he groaned, arching forward with his hips.

B'lee pulled back as D'min moved forward, and added a little suction, then a few licks with his tongue. D'min loved that, and was visibly shuddering. B'lee pushed him down onto the bed, and moved closer, between his legs, so that he could resume his activities. A nibble _here_ , a broad lick _there_ , a gentle caress with the tongue to that spot behind D'min's balls that never failed to elicit a harsh cry, and B'lee was hard himself just from listening.

"B'lee, please," begged D'min. "Fuck me now."

"Wait a little while. They're not mating yet."

"Can't wait. Want you now."

B'lee smiled and shook his head. Then he stood up and stripped off his own shirt, letting it fall to the floor behind him. He put a hand over the lacings of his trousers, watching D'min watching him, and gave himself a slow upward stroke, hearing his own breath catch as his cock responded.

"Come here," ordered D'min in a hoarse whisper, and B'lee took a step forward. D'min sat up and nuzzled against the bulge while his hands came around to knead B'lee's buttocks. Now it was B'lee's turn to moan, and D'min's to laugh.

Then D'min's fingers were busy with lacings and fabric, and B'lee felt his trousers being pulled down. He stepped out of them and kicked them away, hoping they wouldn't pick up too much dust, but all his attention was on his lover now, and he moved onto the bed.

"Lie down," he ordered, and D'min moved obediently to lie on his back.

B'lee reached for the salve that lay on the shelf at the head of the bed. They didn't need much these days, not with the amount of lovemaking they did, but B'lee still enjoyed preparing his lover, teasing at the delicate skin and making sure that everything was deliciously wet and slippery. It gave him a thrill to insert his finger and feel D'min clenching around him, especially when he pushed up a little and found the sweet, hard nugget that gave D'min so much pleasure.

He cast a thought in Margroth's direction. Aurieth was still in the lead, flying high up above the peninsula, but Margroth was gaining on her, and B'lee smiled, knowing it wouldn't be long now.

D'min pulled his knees up and out, pleading wordlessly.

"Not just yet," said B'lee, but he gave long, slow stroke to D'min's cock, then another to his own, making his hand move evenly up flesh that screamed at him to move more quickly. He placed himself over D'min and kissed him, long and deep, as Margroth drew closer to Aurieth. His mind was linked with his dragon's and he could see the green in his mind's eye, her saucy laugh echoing though his head as she glanced backwards. Margroth's wings beat downwards, forcefully, and he raced forward to catch her.

Back in the weyr, B'lee laughed exultantly, and placed the head of his cock at D'min's entrance, ready for the moment that was approaching.

"Mine," he growled, knowing that D'min wouldn't fight him.

"Yours," confirmed D'min, smiling.

The moment came. Margroth swooped on Aurieth, caught her safely and penetrated her in one easy thrust. B'lee matched his movement and entered D'min just as smoothly, and just as deeply. Man and dragon, minds melded, cried out in ecstasy and release.

* * *

Later that night - long after the dragonlust had faded - B'lee was still making love to his weyrmate. D'min was on his front, with one leg drawn up to his chest. B'lee was on top of him, deeply buried, lying close against his lover's back. He was barely moving, having found just the right angle, and was simply keeping D'min on edge while he pressed kisses into the back of his neck. D'min was moaning.

"Sshh, love."

"Feels too good."

"I know. Just enjoy it."

"Ah ... I do."

"Good," whispered B'lee, and took pity on D'min enough to speed up his thrusts a little - a very little.

"More," pleaded D'min.

"Soon."

"More, now."

"Sshh," B'lee soothed him down with his free hand, reaching under his chest to toy with a nipple. "You'll come when I'm ready to let you come."

D'min groaned. "I'm ready now."

"But I'm not. Enjoy this for a bit longer." So saying he lifted D'min's hips a little and made sure that his gentle thrusts were hitting the sweet spot inside. D'min was biting his knuckles in the effort to keep still, but he couldn't help moving just a little in his need, rubbing his cock on the sheet beneath him.

B'lee pulled him up a little more, but then slipped his free hand down to encircle D'min's cock and give it a few slow strokes in time with his thrusts. The skin was smooth and silky but the flesh beneath was hard and ridged, and B'lee loved the feel of it in his hand, loved to feel the heat, and the way it jerked after certain touches, and the fluid that seeped out of the head.

"Oh, B'lee," moaned D'min. "More! Now!"

His voice was rough, and B'lee knew that he couldn't resist the sheer want and need that it indicated. He starting moving more forcefully, beginning an acceleration that brought them both closer and closer. He was panting, now, and he could hear D'min grunting with every forward thrust into his body. He sped up, feeling the tide of orgasm growing and rising within him, and cried out as he felt D'min climax around him, tipping him over into his own release.

They lay still, exhausted and entwined, until eventually D'min wriggled a bit. B'lee took the hint and pulled out, falling onto the bed beside him and dropping a kiss onto the nearest bit of skin he could reach.

D'min rolled over and smiled sleepily up at B'lee. "Hmm. That was fantastic. I love you." He moved, a little gingerly, and murmured. "I'm not going to be able to walk tomorrow, though."

"You only have to make it as far as the necessary. I'll get you anything else you need."

"Will you?"

"Of course I will," he confirmed, brushing a stray hair from D'min's forehead. "You’re my weyrmate, and I look after you."

D'min smiled again, and leaned back against the sleeping furs. "You know, I never thought I'd hear you say that out loud."

"Why? You're my weyrmate and I love you, Domin."

"And you're mine, Billee."

They kissed again, lazily.

"Love you," D'min's words were slurred and his voice was gruff. He sounded as if he were on the verge of sleep, and B'lee smiled.

"Sleep, love. I'll take you down to the bathing pool tomorrow and let you lie in the hot water until you wrinkle. Then I'm going to bring you back here and rub oil into your skin, and then I'll get you some wine to drink so you'll feel a bit more comfortable."

"Mmm. Sounds good." D'min was asleep before he finished, and B'lee smiled fondly as he settled himself down to sleep as well.

It had been a good day, after all.

* * *

B'lee woke at dawn, and watched the shadows grow along the rock face as daylight crept into the weyr. D'min was fast asleep at his side, and B'lee lay in peaceful contemplation of the world. He never would have imagined, a year ago, that he would be so happy today. He still found himself surprised by that nebulous, punched-in-the-gut feeling he got when D'min smiled at him sometimes, or the really comfortable and _belonging_ way that D'min rested on his shoulder when he was really tired, or the sense of utter satisfaction he felt when he saw D'min reach his climax and collapse, sleepy and sated. He had never imagined that he could feel so complete, not even in the days when he had expected to return to High Reaches and hand-fast himself to some Holder girl. Being with D'min was better than any of his dreams had been. It was just perfect.

He got out of bed when he heard the dragons stirring, dropping a kiss onto his lover's ear and hoping that it wouldn't wake him - they had Threadfall that evening, and D'min still needed his rest. He walked through to Margroth's weyr and greeted his dragon affectionately, scratching his eye ridges.

 _You are happy_? asked Margroth, his tail twitching as it curled around Aurieth's.

 _Very happy._

 _Good. Aurieth says her rider is happy, too._

 _That's good to know. We're going to be together for a very long time._

The dragons roused themselves and ambled towards the ledge. B'lee followed, keeping clear of the swishing tails, and looked out at the early morning. A young green lifted up from the bowl, heading for the fireheights where the watch-wher would give way to the dragon as lookout and guard.

At the moment when the sun, flaring orange, broke over the rim, Margroth and Aurieth launched themselves into the air, heading for the lake. B'lee watched them as they soared into the sky, a flight of green and blue, glowing in the early morning light.

A flight of green and blue ... now _there_ was a good title for a ballad.

THE END


End file.
